Those Things Left Behind
by Redtailedfox
Summary: Stefan Salvatore's embrace of his former ripper ways has won him the attention of Angel Investigations, and they'll stop at nothing to drive a stake through his heart.
1. Chapter 1

A.N. Okay, hi! This is an Angel/Vampire Diaries crossover, taking place a bit before the more recent episodes of season three, and way before the finale of the Angel show. Reviews would be most appreciated. Feedback please!

_Darla gasped, finger's twitching as she awoke, vague memories of blood and a man with the face of a monster sending her careening towards a strange emotion that mixed panic and hunger. Her eyes snapped open, and she bolted upright, an alien desire settling in the pit of her stomach. Without missing a beat, she instinctively searched the room for – something. Disappointment came as she realized it wasn't there- whatever it even was. _

"_Please settle down," a cool voice encouraged from the darkened corner's of the room, which Darla suddenly (and belatedly) realized was unfamiliar. The room she had been in before- the bed she had laid in as she had died, was gone, and this room (wide and lavishly furnished) and this bed (equally large and covered in clean sheets) were equally new to her._

_She whirled around, lower body still cocooned in the sheets, a dark growl rising from her throat. There was a pause, and then the high-pitched sound of girlish laughter, as a young woman stepped out from the darkness. Darla's eyes zoomed in on the woman's neck, and then focused on the color in her cheeks and the pulse beneath her skin, that hungry desire again returning._

"_Don't even try it," the woman snarled, and in a blur of red silk and blonde hair, she was instantly next to Darla, her hand wrapping around the other woman's throat, squeezing. _

_Darla tried to gasp, to scream in pain, to roar in anger, anything, but all she could do was desperately try to pull the girl's hands away from her neck- a futile effort. The girl looked at her balefully, her eyes darkening, the veins on her face bulging with blood, her teeth becoming the sharp fangs of an animal. _

_The sense of power radiating off the girl was enormous, and Darla shrank back in submission. Noticing this, the girl's face abruptly shifted back to a human form, and she gave an easy, pleased smile. "There now," she said kindly, dropping her hand "Isn't that better, darling?"_

"_Yes," Darla croaked, rubbing her neck. She slid out of the bed to face the woman directly. "Who are you?" she asked._

_The woman smiled again, a sinister grin again reminiscent of a savage beast. "Rebekah," she said. "And yours is Darla, is it not?"_

"_It is."_

"_Yes, that's the name they told me. They planned on throwing your body in the woods, but I decided to bring you here. Now, my darling girl, do you know what you are?"_

"_No." Darla stared at Rebekah, wondering what this was, and how it tied into the mystery of the man who had feed her his blood as she had waited to die._

_Rebekah pressed herself closer to Darla, who took a hasty step backwards. "A vampire," she breathed, examining the other woman, "Of course, a rather different sort of vampire than my species, but, like us, yours is an abomination never meant to exist." She grinned, and held out her hand. "Perhaps we will become friends. Now tell me, Darla, are you thirsty?"_

A series of frantic on the hotel door brought Angel from his reverie, and he flicked his finger out, motioning towards Cordelia. "Cordelia!" he yelled to her. She grunted, flipping the pages on her magazine. "Door!" he shouted.

"I know!" Cordelia returned, irritated, throwing down her magazine, "And you aren't the boss here anymore, remember?" she smirked, and bounced towards the door, a forcing a cheerful smile to her lips. She pulled open the door, and jumped aside as a young woman practically fell inside.

"Um, hello?" Cordelia said, staring wide-eyed at the woman, "Alright, I guess I can't blame you for being enthusiastic…."

The woman straightened, but the look of utter terror distorting her features wiped away the annoyance from Cordelia's face. "Are you Angel Investigations?" she demanded.

Angel stood up, walking around the front desk to the woman. "We are," he said. "What do you need?"

She looked at him warily. "Is it true- do you deal in cases that are… different?"

"Absolutely!" Cordelia chirped, "That's practically our trademark!"

"What's your name?" Angel asked, and she blinked at him.

"Jane," the woman said, "Jane Knight."

"Why don't you take a seat, Ms. Knight?" Angel asked, gesturing towards the office.

She nodded.

A few minutes later she was situated in the chair in front of the desk, cradling a cup of coffee in her hands. Wesley sat behind the desk, Cordelia, Angel, and Gunn standing in a semi-circle to the side of the woman.

"So, Ms. Knight," Wesley said softly, "What exactly happened to make you think to request our particular brand of help?"

She pressed her hand to her mouth, steadying herself. She breathed in, deeply, and her eyes cleared, her muscles visibly relaxing. "I know it'll sound ridiculous," she informed them calmly, "But it's the truth."

"Please, Ms. Knight," Wesley said, "I promise we won't judge. We've all seen… unbelievable things."

"Alright." She hesitated, then continued, "It was a few nights ago. I was leaving a club… I had had a hard couple of weeks at my job and my friends thought I needed a night out. I left early. It was later than I would have liked, though, an hour or so after sunset. I took a shortcut, and ran into two… men. The first one, dark-haired, young, said, 'Her.' That's when I remember being scared. The way they looked at me… like I was a toy, or something." Her breath hitched.

"Go on," Wesley prompted, "Please."

"Okay, okay." Jane brushed a lock of hair away from her face, "The other one was older, I think, but only slightly. The light was decent, and I got a good look at both of them. He was- the older one- blonde and handsome, they both were- handsome, that is- and he had a British accent. He smiled at me and then said, 'Go ahead, Ripper.'"

"Ripper?" Angel interrupted, and Cordelia glowered.

"Yes," the woman affirmed absentmindedly, "Ripper. And then," she winced, "After that the dark-haired one started to walk forward. I was frozen to the spot. And his, his face…" she broke off briefly, and then returned, "it _changed_. I can't explain it. His eyes… his face. And his teeth." She gave a shrill laugh, "They looked like fangs! Crazy, right?" She didn't wait for an answer. "And then I ran. I heard laughter behind me, both of them, laughing."

"Did you make it home?" Wesley asked. "Or did you go to the police?"

She shook her head. "Just home. I thought- I don't know exactly what it was I thought. I ran home and prayed that he wouldn't come through the door. He didn't, and after an hour or so, I thought he must have lost me. I went to bed, and then went to work. The next evening, this was waiting for me on my cell phone." Jane's eyes dropped from Wesley as she rummaged through her purse, pulling out a pink phone from an inner pocket. "Here it is. You can listen to it yourselves." She pressed a button, and a low voice filled the room.

_You ran very fast_ the man said, seemingly amused _I could have caught you then, but what would the fun be in that? _There was a pause, and then the man began again _Do you know what I do to young ladies such as yourself? _He asked, and there was an unusual quality to his voice, a soft, almost gentle menace. _I rip them apart._ There was another pause, a heavy silence where the man seemed about to break into peals of laughter, but instead of doing so, or perhaps before he did, there was a faint click, and then the monotone of the voice machine informing the group that this message would be erased in two weeks.

"And then I went here," the woman finished. "Will you help me?" she asked.

"Of course," Wesley said, the rest of them nodding in unspoken agreement.


	2. Chapter 2

"_The Originals?" Angelus asked the vampire pressed against him, and she sighed in pleasure, moving her hands over his chest and tilting her face upwards. The low light from nearby shops illuminated her face even in this isolated alleyway, turning her blonde hair to the palest gold, and the blood staining her dress to a dark crimson._

"_Like I said," she murmured, slightly impatient, licking at his neck and biting his ear lightly, than harder. He growled, and she gave a brief laugh, kissing the blood away. "The Originals." Her tone made it clear she was uninterested in this line of questioning, or any other sort of discussion. _

"_Who are they?"_

"_Why does it matter?" Darla snapped, pulling herself away and narrowing her eyes. He grinned, and she relented with a groan, "They're the first vampires," she told him._

"_The first vampires?" Angelus repeated, "But… not our vampires, of course."_

"_Of course," she purred, "If you knew their power…."_

"_Power?" Angelus smiled, yanking Darla away and shoving her roughly against the wall behind them, and she cried out in delight. "Are they stronger than us?" he asked softly, hands moving to her waist, and then behind, pulling at the string's of her corset._

"_Many creatures are stronger than us," she replied vaguely, amusement trickling from her in the form of a low laugh. "More than you know…." _

"Do you think he literally meant to rip her apart?" Cordelia asked. They had sent Jane Knight to her apartment, which Cordelia had grudgingly offered as a safe place to stay. Wesley was busy looking through his numerous files for any sort of information he might find on the man, searching for any clues that might lead them to discovering the possible vampire. "Ahem!" Cordelia coughed, shooting a glower at her colleagues. She scowled half-heartedly.

Angel and Gunn glanced towards her, and she shrugged. "I mean, who says this is even a vampire?" she wondered, "Maybe it's a human stalker and/or serial killer who… uses power tools to 'rip' people apart. Thoughts?" They continued to stare, and she looked away, "I'm just giving suggestions," she mumbled, "Feel free to disagree."

Gunn nodded slightly, and then turned, "It's actually a good point, Angel," Gunn said to the vampire, "The woman was at a club, it was late, she was overworked and stressed, and maybe she was drunk. It's not impossible that she merely imagined the fangs."

Angel shook his head, "We can't rule it out," he said, "So it's certainly _possible_. But I don't know, something just tells me that it's a vampire."

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Right." She paused, and then a triumphant expression lit up her features. She snapped her fingers together loudly, the sound breaking the sudden still quiet that had fallen on the room, and Angel jumped. "Jedi Knight-"

"_Jane_ Knight," Angel corrected.

"Whatever. She said the other man with the… perhaps-a-vampire guy was blonde and British. Anyone else thinking of Spike?"

"No," Angel said, "This isn't Spike's… _style_. He likes the blood, the killing, but he doesn't have the patience or the inclination for this. He would have merely killed her in the alleyway, he doesn't find pleasure in a slow kill the way some do. Honestly, most vampires will just eat without playing with the victim as much as this one seems to want to. And the fact that there were two of them- Spike doesn't really mix very well with other vampires."

"This actually seems more like your kind of thing," Cordelia pointed out, raising an eyebrow as both men eyed her, "What?" she asked indignantly, "I meant Angelus, obviously." She faced Angel, "It was, wasn't it? Toying with the victim, torturing them slowly, giving them false hope and then snatching it away? Fits Angelus' profile more than it does Spike's."

"True," Angel said, but didn't add anything else. Gunn examined him.

"I heard about that incident a while back with the vamp serial killer you sired," he told the other man, "Please tell me you aren't connected to this."

"I'm not. I'm pretty sure, anyway."

"Right," Gunn muttered, "Somehow that's just not very comforting."

"You can stake him if he does turn out to be involved," Cordelia joked.

"That probably won't be necessary," Wesley's voice broke in, as he staggered into the room, a mound of papers balanced precariously between his hands. With a grunt, he put them on a nearby chair, and plucked a manila folder from the top of the stack.

"Great!" Cordelia exclaimed, "This _is_ going to be good news, right?"

Wesley breathed out and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes. "Good news?" he asked, putting his glasses back on, his mouth drawn tight with displeasure, "Perhaps for Ms. Knight. I'd classify it more as… disturbing news." He opened the folder and removed a picture. "I've found out some details on our vampire." He passed the picture to Angel, who in turn showed it to Cordelia and Gunn. All three of their faces turned grim.

"I assumed it was a vampire," Wesley explained, "So I looked for the obvious- damage to the throat, blood missing, etc. Then I took what he said on the phone, and expanded the search for mutilated body parts. That," he said, pointed to the photo, "Is a crime scene photograph from a recent murder that I would say is probably the work of our mystery stalker. Believe it or not, that's actually one of the less gory ones." His face darkened, "This man is a serial killer. The trail of bodies numbers in the dozens, and that's just from the last month."

"And before then?" Angel asked, turning the picture around in his hands, "How far back does it go?"

A frown creased Wesley's brow. "That's the strangest part," he said, "It doesn't. That's as far as it goes. Before last month, nothing like this."

"So it's a new vamp," Gunn said, "That should make him a bit easier to kill."

"I'm not sure," Wesley said, "I wasn't quite finished. It's a blank slate before last month, for years. But there were murders exactly like this- in the late nineteenth century and the early twentieth century. But it seems to end sometime in the thirties. And then for more than fifty years."

"Until now," Angel said.

"Until now," Wesley agreed. He took back the photo, put in the folder, and then let the folder fall on top of the rest papers and files. He looked up, meeting each of their eyes. "There's one more thing," he said softly, "Aside from merely draining the victims and brutally ripping them apart, our killer's signature seems to be that he…" Wesley trailed off, seemingly reluctant to continue. He hesitated, and then said, "He puts the bodies back together," Wesley finished bleakly.

"Like he regrets tearing them apart in the first place?" Cordelia asked, but any trace of bite or sarcasm had vanished, leaving behind only dread and dismay.

"Or he's playing some sick game," Gunn said.

"His motives are irrelevant," Angel told them, "Our job- our duty- is to protect Ms. Knight and kill this murderer before he hurts anyone else."

"Absolutely." Wesley cocked his head to the side. "And… what's the plan, then?"

Angel paused. "Ms. Knight may not like it," he said. "But we're going to need to use her as bait."


	3. Chapter 3

A.N. Thx for the reviews TalesMN! More flashbacks are coming, but I don't think I'll have Angelus as the one really involved with the Originals, that's more Darla. Anyway! For anyone reading, head's up, Stefan is in this chapter, and he's pretty evil. This takes place slightly before season three of the Vampire Diaries, so I know he hasn't technically turned off his humanity yet, but did have his sadistic moments even with it… so…. thx! Please review! XD

_The woman was pale and dark-haired, beautiful under the fair light of the crescent moon. The fact that she was covered in blood only served to make her beauty more enticing in Angelus' eyes. The woman's smooth arms were currently wrapped around the midsection of a corpse, embracing it like one might a lover, her lips pressed seductively against its still-seeping neck. _

_If Angelus' heart still beat, it would have raced now in response to this lovely stranger. He approached delightedly, keeping himself a few feet away. If there was one thing he had learned about female vampires in his years, it was that they could be a truly deadly breed._

"_I believe," Angelus said, politely teasing, "That man is long since dead."_

_The woman's mouth moved from the man's neck, and she sighed, the light sound instantly arousing him. She relaxed her grip, and allowed the man's body to fall from her grasp. "Clearly," she said, her back to Angelus, "But rot has not yet spoiled him, his blood is still fresh."_

"_So treat yourself to something fresher," Angelus urged, taking a step closer, "This village- it's for the picking."_

"_What would the fun be in that?" the woman asked, and then faced him. The sight of her would have taken his breath away- had he had any to give. Her beauty was striking, her dark eyes both expressive and shining sadistically, her lips quirked into a secretive smile, even as the blood that painted them a delicious shade of scarlet dripped down her chin and unto the top of her dress._

"_The fun?" Angelus asked. "The fun is in the kill of course, in the hunt. The pain you can inflict- the fear you can cause."_

"_Of course," she sighed, exaggerated weariness crossing her features, "Perhaps I grow tired of this. I want to play so badly- I want sport. I want a _game_. One with no rules and no strings and no consequences." She gazed into his eyes, and her smiled widened. She stepped forward, cupping the back of his neck and pressing his face to her throat. She took his cheeks in her hands, making his lips press against the warm curve where collarbone met her throat. He tasted her victim's blood, and his mouth moved of its own accord, lapping at the blood stains, and continuing to do so, even when they were gone. _

_She giggled, and he laughed along with her, his hands seizing her face and bringing it towards his mouth in a deep kiss. She bent her body towards him, and then pulled away, twirling, allowing her skirts to spin and dance in the darkness. "Kill for me," she said, "I want that to be our game."_

"_Anything for you," Angelus smirked, reverting to his vampiric face._

"_My nameless knight!" she exclaimed, "I want to call you something. Tell me your name," she ordered, voice hardening almost imperceptibly._

_He looked at her a short second, and then said, "Angelus. And yours?"_

"_Katherine," she allowed, the sound of her name a soft hiss against the wind._

The sunset had passed, leaving only a lingering sense of longing, and night had recently fallen, its sweet song just beginning to hum through Angel's bones. A faint scent caught his attention, and he sniffed, instantly recognizing the tang of fear. He turned to owner of the apartment, who was quivering, the obvious source of the scent, waves of doubt and terror permeating the room. There was another scent as well, a diluted, half-familiar smell that lingered near the hallway.

"Do we really have to do this?" she asked weakly, wrapping her arms around her chest in what was perhaps an unconscious effort to ward off the danger she was being presented with.

"I believe, ma'am, we do," Wesley said, his voice soft, but too filled with his own nervousness to be reassuring. Jane nodded anyway, her head bobbing up and down.

"It's okay," Cordelia told her, patting her lightly on the shoulder, "We'll take care of this. All you have to do is go to your bedroom and relax. He won't be able to come in."

A low giggle escaped Jane's lips, the frantic sound electrifying the air. "Then _why_ do we even have to do this?" She turned to Cordelia, "Let me stay at your place," she pleaded, "I won't take up any space."

"Ms. Knight," Wesley said, "I think you could agree that it's infinitely safer for you to be with us than alone, yes?"

"I hate to say it, but Wesley's right," Cordelia added, "And even though he won't be able to come in, Angel here-" she pointed "thinks that he's been coming to your apartment anyway."

"How?" the woman asked, suddenly suspicious.

"I… have contacts at the police," Angel feebly tried to explain. It was the truth, but not the answer, and he took in another whiff of the room. The half-familiar scent belonged to the man, the smell was undeniably vampiric, but somehow… there was a noticeable _difference_ in the aroma that bothered Angel. It reminded him of the scent of siblings- similar, but still distinctly unique from each other. It was one more piece of the puzzle that Angel realized was larger than he had originally anticipated, and this discovery only contributed to his growing unease with the entire situation.

Jane turned her head away. "Alright," she eventually conceded, "Just… I'm going to bed. I can't... deal with this. Wake me if anything comes up, please." She trembled, and Cordelia took her hand.

"I'll go with you," she said, coaxing Jane towards the room. Jane accepted numbly, and Cordelia turned to mouth something to Wesley. He nodded encouragingly. Cordelia opened the door for Jane, and both women slipped inside, the door clicking shut behind them.

Wesley looked towards Angel. "Where's Gunn?" he asked.

"He volunteered to bring the supplies."

"Volunteered?" Wesley queried disbelievingly. "I recall Cordelia bullying him into it. I was asking because I thought he was only a few minutes behind us."

"I'm sorry," a sarcastic voice came from behind the door, and then the door was thrust open, and Gunn threw down a bulging duffle bag on the floor. He looked up, "But nobody mentioned how many things Cordelia decided to put into it." He unzipped the bag, and reached inside, yanking out a sleeping bag attached to a small backpack.

"Figures," he said drily, tossing that to the ground as well.

The bedroom door slammed open, and with a squeal, Cordelia ran out, and snatched up the sleeping bag and backpack. At Gunn's and Wesley's disapproving glare, she stuck out her tongue and said, "Don't expect me to spend the night at some strange lady's place without some… necessities." She grinned and raced down the hall to the door. "You all just _wish_ you had done the same!" she threw over her shoulder, and Wesley heaved a dramatic sigh.

Angel took the bag in his arms and placed it on the couch, pulling the sides open to display a wide array of stakes, vials of holy water, crucifixes, and the odd medieval sword or two. He grabbed two glasses of holy water, shoving one into each pocket, and tossing several more to Gunn, who also pocketed them.

"What about me?" Wesley complained.

Angel rummaged through the stakes, picking out two of his favorite stakes, and then grabbing an axe for good measure. "You won't be going, Wesley," he told him, "While Gunn and I hunt down the vampire; I'll need you and Cordelia to watch our client."

"And frankly?" Gunn said, reaching in the bag for a stake, "Angel and I are the better fighters." He took a large cross on a leather band and hung it around his neck. "No offense."

"He's right," Angel said, shrugging.

"No offense taken," Wesley ground out, retrieving a stake and several containers of holy water. "For Cordelia," he explained, and then took out a cross. "My hands are full. Carry it?" He tossed it to Angel, who yelped, steam rising from his palms as he dropped the item.

"Hey!"

"Oops," Wesley said coldly, taking the cross from the ground, "Sorry about that. I'm going to be with Cordelia. If you need me."

Angel winced, blowing on his burnt hands. "That was unnecessary," he mumbled to himself, the pain of the burn being replaced with a steady coolness as his skin began to heal.

Gunn shrugged. "What did you expect, exactly?" Without waiting for a response, he turned and opened the door, peaking outside.

"Nothing there," he whispered.

"Let me," Angel said, stepping around Gunn and sniffing the air. "I smell him," he said after a pause, "Faint… but getting heavier. He's here."

"Where?" Gunn asked.

"I don't know," Angel replied lowly, exiting the apartment, the delicate sound of his boot pressing against the floor making both of them wince.

"Careful," Gunn warned, and Angel nodded, treading more lightly as he walking down the hall. Gunn followed nearly as quietly, though no human could ever really compete evenly with a vampire in that regard.

Angel stopped at the end of the hall, and then cracked open the door that lead to the stairs. "He's in here," he breathed, going through first. Gunn grabbed the door before it closed, and then went through himself, taking a bottle of holy water from his pocket and rolling it around in one palm, the other hand firmly clasping his stake. The sight of the winding metallic staircases both above and below them only increased his nerves, and he shoved them away with a practiced efficiency that tended to come in handy during times like this.

"What now?" Gunn asked, and Angel looked down first, and then up. "He went to the roof," Angel said, his voice still hushed, "He's still here. I can smell him."

"Freaky," Gunn complimented, "But useful."

"Thanks."

They climbed the stairs slowly, though there was a sense of purpose and haste that hurried both of them. Reaching the top, Angel drew in a deep breath of air, and Gunn did the same, once more forcing himself to remain calm. Panic and die, he reminded himself, not for the first time. Angel grabbed the door handle, and then after a motionless pause that seemed to last a lifetime, he pressed down and then threw the door outwards with all the strength and speed of the undead. They both jumped out on the roof, immediately assaulted by the bright lights of the city flashing below, and the overwhelming surge of sound from the ground and up.

They ran out onto the roof, shoes crunching against gravel as they both simultaneously spotted their target. He whirled around; face human and full of amused surprise, lips parting in a joyful smile. He was the dark-haired one Jane had talked about, young and handsome. "What a treat!" he shouted gleefully, "I was only planning on killing one today…." He stepped forward, one hand pointing towards Gunn, the other Angel, "What are _those_?" he asked, tsk-tsking playfully, "Are you actually _vampire hunters_? As if Alaric wasn't enough… did he recruit you? No? Yes? Give an answer, people! Anything! I'm getting bored here!"

"You're going to die tonight," Angel told the other vampire, a trace of anger coloring his words. His axe spun around in a slow circle, the city light's glinting across the curving length of the blade.

The man sneered at him. "Really?"

"Absolutely," Gunn said, uncorking the bottle of holy water.

"I'm not really in the mood to fight, guys. Maybe we could just call it quits. Surrender, and I'll kill you quickly! How does that sound, mm?" He frowned, and then a faint smile broke out again. "Maybe not." He lunged forwards, and Gunn heard Angel's sharp intake of air. The vampire's speed was blinding- faster than he had ever seen a vamp move before. It was nearly impossible to gauge the vamp's location, so instead of aimlessly trying to stake him, Gunn tossed the contents of the bottle outwards, Angel following suit.

The vampire stopped in his tracks, and there was a tense silence as he brought his hands to his face. His mouth opened, but instead of the anguished scream both Gunn and Angel were expecting, he began to laugh. He lowered his hands, revealing his unmarked flesh. "What the hell?" he asked. "Was that… holy water? Seriously?" His eyes flooded with dark blood, the veins around them pushing up against the skin, and when he smiled again, fangs were clearly visible.

"What is this?" Gunn growled at Angel, who was staring at their target in horror. The fact that he was a supernatural creature was irrefutable, but the proof that he wasn't a traditional vampire was unavoidable.

Angel's face hardened into controlled resolve. "It doesn't matter," he said, addressing both Gunn and the murderer, "Decapitation tends to kill most things." In a blur of motion, he lunged forwards and swung the axe outward.

The man's eyes widened, and with that same superhuman quickness he had demonstrated before, he flung his hands up to grab the sharp edge of the blade. For the first time, he cried out in genuine pain as the axe sliced into his palms. Red blood dripped down the blade as Angel pushed forward, his face abandoning its human guise. The man's fingers loosened on the blade, and he repositioned his body, preparing to release it and duck underneath.

Gunn jumped forward at the same moment the man dropped the axe and pressed himself against the ground. The silver blade sailed overhead, and Gunn raced towards the man, stabbing downwards with his stake. The man turned sideways at the last possible second, and Gunn missed his heart, the stake instead lodging somewhere below.

Angel kicked the man in the gut, and he rolled with it, crawling away and then standing, bloodied and wrathful, eyes dark with hate. He forced a grin, and reached down, grabbing the handle of the stake and viciously yanking it out, a spray of blood erupting from the wound. He tossed it aside, giving Angel and Gunn a wide view of the injury. Then, astonishingly, the torn flesh began to repair itself, the blood flow cutting off, the skin coming back together.

Gunn knew vampire's healed fast, but the rate at which this… creature was doing so was impossible by any standards.

Angel seemed to notice it as well. "What are you?" he asked, dropping the reddened axe to the ground. "Not a vampire, I can see. At least not my kind."

"Your kind?" the creature returned, calmer, the whites of his eyes draining of color, and his fangs retracting, "What are you talking about?"

Angel snarled, the bestial sound startling the other. "My sire once told me about a sister species of vampires, and the Originals that had made them all."

The creature's expression morphed into one of amazed terror, and he backed up a few paces. "You know of the Originals?" he asked.

Angel nodded, hand slowly reaching into his pocket, "Darla told me about them," he replied, taking a careful step forward, "As did Katherine, a vampire of your race." He took another step, "I should have realized what you were after I found your scent."

The other vampire was beginning to make his retreat to the edge of the roof, when he stopped cold at the mention of Katherine. "You knew Katherine," he stated blankly. He raised his gaze to lock on to Angel's. "She was the one who turned me into this. If you knew her, I pity you."

Angel forced a grin, taking another step, and another. "We had much fun together. She was one of the most ruthless killers I have ever met."

"Your name?" the man asked coolly.

"Angelus," Angel told the man, watching as his eyes again widened, recognition flashing through them.

There was a burst of laughter. "I know you," he said, the gently cruel tone he had used on the phone reappearing. "Katherine mentioned you once." He paused. "But why are you protecting a human?" he asked slyly, "From her account, you're supposed to be a vicious monster."

"Got a soul," Angel said, inching forward again. One more step and he would be within reasonable striking range.

The man rolled his eyes. "Sure."

"You're name?" Angel asked, seeking a distraction as he began to raise the stake from his pocket.

"Stefan Salvatore-" his words ended abruptly in an enraged howl as Angel's arm wiped out, the tip of the stake tearing a long gash into his chest. He stumbled backwards, onto the edge of the roof, and then fell off of it. Throwing the stake aside, Angel looked over the edge of the building, watching as Stefan smashed into a balcony several stories below.

Gunn walked forward. "That was interesting," he remarked, "Should we look for him?"

"No," Angel said, "Not tonight."


	4. Chapter 4

His body was broken, bloody. Lexi had once described pain as a dagger; if he were awake he would have equated it to more of an acid, seemingly all-consuming and total in its embrace. Unconsciousness was a mercy that Stefan gratefully accepted, allowing his mind to cart him away from his slowly-healing body and into the solace of a calm memory.

_Stefan wandered down the stairs, making his gait measured and leisurely, letting the warm bottle of human blood to slosh around in its container as he did so. Even now, he couldn't help but taunt Katherine, as she stared hungrily from inside the shadowed confines of the tomb._

_He arrived at the bottom, and then walked forward, stopping just before he reached the invisible barrier, sitting down and flipping the bottle between his hands. He looked up innocently at Katherine, dark pleasure stirring inside him as he took in her withered features and gaunt cheeks._

_She licked her chapped lips, eyeing the blood with unreserved lust, and then pulled her gaze away to stare at him. Even sunken and black with thirst, they were mesmerizing and somehow still beautiful, great vats of darkness that tempted him to go and lose himself in their depths forever. "Come to gloat?" she asked hoarsely, and as always, there was a ring of amusement that edged her words._

"_Maybe," Stefan smirked, uncapping the bottle, its seductive scent wafting towards her. Her eyes briefly closed, the veins around them more apparent than ever._

_Her control had been perfected over the centuries, and she only needed a brief moment before the physical signs of her thirst melted away. "Be nice, Stefan," she cooed, "Tell me what you want, and I'll see if I can help." She tilted her head and her dirty hair spilled across her face; for a brief second she looked like nothing more than a helpless, injured girl, and in that instant, all Stefan saw was Elena, hurting and desperate._

_His composure slipped, as it always did on these secret trips to Katherine's prison-lair, and without a word he handed over the blood._

_She abandoned her control, and grabbed the bottle in her hands, shoving her mouth down around the opening and leaning back her head, squeezing the contents into her waiting mouth and moaning at her first taste, savage joy and animal need glowing in the recesses of her eyes before they closed again- this time in ecstasy. Color returned to her cheeks, and the appearance of vitality and health replaced the sickened sight she had become. Finished, she opened her eyes threw the bottle towards Stefan, who snatched it out of the air and placed it on the ground._

"_What do you want?" she asked him again, her voice smoother now, her teasing lips full and red._

_He shrugged, making up the question as he opened his mouth. "Tell me about the first doppelganger," he said, and she smiled._

"_I'm the first doppelganger," Katherine replied, and he cursed himself for the mistake._

"_Tell me about the woman you're identical, too, then," he corrected, and she grinned again._

"_Can't help you."_

"_Does that mean you don't know or you won't tell me?" he snapped, suddenly frustrated._

_Her grin expanded. "Does it matter?" she asked rhetorically, and then continued, "I've lived a very long time, Stefan. I have many interesting stories to share. I could tell you about the people I've killed, or the ways they've killed each other, methods evolving over the centuries. Or perhaps the killer's I've met, hm?"  
><em> 

"_I'm not interested."_

"_Of course not," she purred, and then leaned forward slightly, her body nearly pressing against the barrier. "You know," she said after a short pause, "There was a man once, a vampire, obviously, who reminds me a tiny bit of you. A murderer, like yourself, but the way he killed was fantastic. I think the ripper would have learned a thing or two from him. He was almost elegant in the manner of which he slaughtered- pay attention now, Stefan- and he was quite fond of rearranging the bodies after their demise. Sound familiar?"_

_He said nothing, and she laughed, waving him away, his cue to go, to return to the daylight world where he could pretend Katherine held no sway, and imagine her words had no power over him._

"_Personally, I found the habit a bit repulsive, but I don't doubt you would have enjoyed his company, back when you were dangerous and mean." She smiled sarcastically, and he rose, turning away to leave. "Angelus," she shouted to him, "Because he had the face of an angel." And as Stefan went up the stairs, he heard her laughter floating up behind him._

His eyes snapped open, and for a second he thought Katherine was with him, still laughing, but this laugh was decidedly male, and he turned, taking in his surroundings, and finding Klaus.

Klaus watched him with undisguised amusement. In his hands were a deck of cards, which he shuffled expertly. "I thought you'd never awake," Klaus joked, and Stefan rose from the floor with a grunt. He was healed, but it had taken a toll on his strength, and his limbs felt tired and weak, his chest sore. His shirt was crusted in blood, as was a section of his skin.

"You know," Klaus began, "when I suggested our little game, I never thought it would get this out of hand. The woman you picked- was she secretly a vampire hunter?" His lips curved into a teasing grin.

Stefan forced a humorless smile.

"Seriously," Klaus said, offering a playing card, "maybe a different sort of game. Cards, for instance. Much lower… stakes. Pardon the pun."

Stefan didn't take the card, and Klaus set the deck on the floor, rising as well. "What the hell happened? Not often do you see a centuries old vampire such as yourself bested by a human girl."

Stefan scowled. "It wasn't her. There was... interference. Others came. They knew what I was. And one of them…." He stopped and looked at Klaus, who looked back, still obviously amused. "Klaus," he said, "Do you know of… another type of vampire? A different species?"

Klaus' expression hardened immediately, and he backed up a step, folding his arms over his chest. "Now where would you get such a mad idea?" he asked icily.

Stefan examined him, debating whether to push the issue. He decided to do so- his confusion and curiosity were momentarily overriding his fear of Klaus. He took a step forward. "The creature I fought told me as much. His name was Angelus, and I remember now Katherine once mentioning him. He seemed to know her as well. The story fits."

"Does it?" Klaus murmured darkly, and then gave a tight smile. "Angelus? I've heard that name before. One of my siblings knew his sire. I've heard his body count nearly matches yours, dear ripper."

A flash of regret, quick but piercing drove through Stefan, a sudden flood of images racing through his mind- people butchered and bodies torn apart and put back together, a the memories of an ocean of blood washing like a scarlet shadow over his vision and the echoes of screams ringing distantly in his ears. The emotion passed, blissfully, but Stefan saw Klaus' eyes narrow in cold anger and something akin to disappointment. These, too, were fleeting, replaced by taunting calculation.

Stefan ignored it, forcing back the growing unease that always came when Klaus was displeased. "So you do know about these vampires," he said. "Tell me about them. I need to know."

"And why should I tell you anything?" Klaus asked flatly, and Stefan closed his eyes briefly, wondering how to convince him.

He opened them, "They've made any enemy out of me. I need to know their weaknesses so I can destroy them." He looked pleadingly at Klaus, "You can't expect me to go without further information, now that I have proof of their existence."

Klaus examined him, and Stefan thought Klaus would refuse to tell him anything, to warn Stefan from ever being so bold again. The words that came out of the hybrid's mouth were not the ones he was expecting. "Alright, Stefan," he said, "I'll tell you."

Stefan fought back to sudden urge to gape.

Klaus appeared almost offended, but an unnerving emotion, one Stefan couldn't quite identify, sparkled coldly in his eyes. "Don't mistake my motives for being anything other than self-serving, mate," he said, "If you die before the agreed upon ten years are up, then our bargain is null and void. I might have to… rectify… the situation."

The threat was less than subtle, and Stefan instantly understood the message being conveyed between the lines. If he left, for any reason, if he ran, if he died… Damon's life was forfeit. He allowed nothing to show on his face, for his humanity was a weakness that he could not let Klaus see. "How rude of me," he instead said drily, "To even considering dying on you."

"Yes, indeed," Klaus responded swiftly, and then continued, "What can I tell you about these vampires? Hm. They're much like us- unnatural, vicious killers. They require blood to survive, as we do, and cannot enter a home uninvited. The sunlight is their enemy, and a wooden stake through the heart their demise." He glanced up at Stefan. "Unlike us, however, they have no aversion to vervain, their poison is holy water, and a cross will burn them."

Though unbelievable, Stefan tried to force himself to accept what Klaus was saying as the truth. "Can they compel?" he asked, steadying his voice.

"They cannot. But they are immune to our own compulsion, and a rare few can hypnotize their prey before they strike. A useful talent." Klaus' gaze seemed to suddenly bore into Stefan's soul. "We are stronger than they are," Klaus began, his voice deliberately measured and purposeful, "And though many of their species are nothing- easily defeated and effortlessly dispatched, some of them are not to be underestimated. A select few have honed their abilities to beyond even your level, and are not to be trifled with. This Angelus, for instance. My sister was fond of his sire, Darla, and those of her bloodline have no parallel in their race. The Master's children are not easy prey."

"The Master?"

Klaus shrugged, waving the question away. "Dead. Irrelevant." His lips twisted into the parody of a fond smile. "I knew a girl, once. One of Angelus' finest accomplishments. She had an incredible gift- she had an affinity for the world, she knew the past and the future, what was to come and what had already passed. A complete lunatic, but one with amazing instincts." His smile fell. "Be careful, Stefan," he warned, "Angelus has had many enemies over the centuries, but none have yet defeated him. All that have tried are now dust or ashes."

Stefan nodded, remembering the trained eye of the vampire on the roof, and the experienced, confident way he had welded the axe. His gut clenched as he recalled the violent, animal snarl that had emerged from Angelus' throat, and the way his face had shifted into a demonic mask. Stefan banished these thoughts from his mind, and returned to what Klaus had said, part of him still trying to process the new information that another part of him still refused to believe. He paused, a disturbing thought occurring to him. "Klaus," he said slowly, "Are there anymore creatures out there? Any more supernatural beings that I don't _currently_ know about?" he stressed the word intentionally, glaring intensely at Klaus.

"Are you suggesting I'm keeping secrets from you, Stefan?" Klaus asked playfully, but did not make a move to answer the question, and his icy gaze prevented Stefan from pressing the matter further. With a frustrated sigh, Stefan resigned himself to the fact that he'd get no more from the hybrid, aggravating as it was.

A short few miles away, at an old hotel, nestled in the busy streets of sunny Los Angeles, a different and decidedly more benevolent group of individuals were plotting against the two unsuspecting vampires. Their own resident vampire was currently in talks with a rather pretentious former watcher. Both were on the task of discovering about their enemy, Stefan Salvatore, and finding a way to end his life- permanently.

"Tell me what you've found, Wesley," Angel told the self-stylized 'rogue demon hunter'.

Wesley rubbed his eyes, looking at the vampire blearily. "I've been looking all night, Angel," he returned crossly, irritation tightening the line of his mouth. "And although I pride myself on having extensive notes, I've only found one scrap of information that even mentions the possibility of another species of vampire."

"And?"

Wesley looked up, a scowl materializing over his face, a tart retort forming in his mouth, but he calmed himself, instead coolly reminding the vampire that he had relinquished his command. Angel ignored him, and with a loud, obvious sigh, Wesley went on, "It's part of a watcher's diary from… well before even your time, Angel. When you told me… about this… Stefan Salvatore, I remembered reading about this there."

"Why haven't you told us about this before?" Angel asked, exasperated.

Wesley glared. "Because," he replied tensely, "The watcher is question had a habit of being… eccentric."

"And by eccentric you mean-?"

"Insane," Wesley finished, nodding. "Yes. So you can see the dilemma. I'm hesitant to share what he wrote- which wasn't much, regardless- because this may very well be nonsense that could end up hurting us."

"We have to risk it," Angel said, his face still grave, but his tone suddenly serene. He had made his decision, and now expected Wesley to abide by it, boss or not. "Darla and the vampire Katherine told me very little about the nature of these creatures."

"Refresh my memory, then."

Angel indulged the man. "They were created a thousand years ago by a witch. The vampires of their race can all trace their lineage back to only a few ancestors. These are the Originals. I only know the name of the one Darla knew- Rebekah. By Darla's account, she is supposed to be as deadly as she is beautiful. And she is very, very beautiful." He shrugged. "They're faces are different from my type of vampire, but aside from that, I know nothing else."

Wesley licked at his lips, considering, and then said, "That corresponds with what the watcher wrote." He opened a desk drawer and gingerly pulled out a thin, yellowed paper, which he handed to Angel, who took it.

The ink was faded but the subject matter would have been immediately obvious, even to the random observer. Next to rows of nearly indecipherable text, there was a carefully drawn sketch of a blonde girl, eyes dark red and teeth bared to reveal long fangs, dripping with blood. Below her lay a picture of a purple flower, and beside that a detailed drawing of some type of necklace, perhaps a locket- silver, with raised metal encircling the surface in a strange pattern, and a gemstone near one end.

"A vampire," Angel said, pointing the girl. His finger moved to trace the flower and then the necklace. "But what are those?"

Wesley took the paper back. "The flower is an herb called vervain, which from the watcher's notes, I've determined is harmful to these vampires, much in the same way holy water is for you. I've called a friend who's sending some over. It should arrive in a few days. The watcher details the ways the herb can be used against these creatures. Flesh contact with it will burn them, and putting it in food or drink will make your blood poisonous, as long as it remains in your system. Even its presence will prevent you from succumbing to their compulsion." Wesley looked up. "Which is a form of hypnotism. However, I doubt you would be vulnerable anyway, Angel."

"And the necklace?" Angel prompted.

Wesley shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. This is all I have, and this says nothing about the necklace."

"What else is there?" Angel urged.

"Very little. Aside from the references to vervain and compulsion, and the Originals- which he seems to know little about- all the watcher says is that these vampires are," Wesley coughed, squinting at the paper, "and these here are his exact words, 'a dangerous new threat, one that rivals even that of those creatures of the night the Slayer battles against'. Unquote. But that it. Nothing more, I'm sorry to say."

"That's fine," Angel said, "Stefan Salvatore bled just as we do. He's hardly invincible. I know you think it's futile, but keep looking for new information- and see if you can find out anything about him. He's old, but I don't know how old."

"Alright. And then?"

"And then," Angel said simply, "I kill him."


	5. Chapter 5

A.N. Hi everyone! I'm not quite sure about this particular story, especially the character that comes with it, so I'm just wondering what you're opinion is….

_She had left an easy trail to follow. It was almost too simple, and if Elijah had not been a nearly invulnerable Original, he might have been suspicious. As it was, he was slightly confused. With her abilities, he doubted she was unaware that she was being tracked, but he reminded himself she was hardly in her right mind. She had led him on a short but merry chase through London's streets, and the darkened house he finally stopped at gave him a brief pause. But upon trying to enter, he found he could easily slip through the doorway, and judged that either the house had been abandoned, or, more likely, his target had made a quick meal of the resident's._

_The house was large, and though there were no lanterns or candles to provide light, he could see that it was elaborately furnished. The stairs he went up were made of polished wood, and the banister was elegant and wide. The first door at the top of the staircase was cracked open, and he pushed the door in, entering. He was instantly greeted by the overwhelming stench of coagulating blood, and swept his eyes across the room for the woman, finding her on the ground._

_Though her eyes were closed and her dark hair was splayed around her head, curls lank with blood, she was not the source of the red stuff. Her fair skin was unmarked, and her lips parted slightly as he watched her. She wore nothing, save for a thin white sheath, that edged with blood made her look like a virgin sacrifice, though she was neither. Elijah took a step forward, and she sighed languidly, opening her eyes to stare at him. Her gaze was disarming, unblinking and piercing, and Elijah's stomach twisted uncomfortably at the intensity being projected towards him._

_Then, fearfully, she rose from the floor. Her movements resembled those of a dancer, she had an eerie grace that was reflected in her every motion and step. She moved closer to the bed, revealing the corpses draped over the chair at the back of the room. She followed Elijah's gaze, and then said in a tremulous, high voice, "I didn't mean to kill them." Her eyes opened wide, pleading silently with Elijah. "I only wanted a companion. Like Darla has with Angelus, and him with her. A playmate. He told me I could come in, he was so very nice, but I took too much and when I remembered to feed him my blood it was too late. Then she came in," she pointed with a quivering finger to the female corpse, "And I thought I'd make _her_ my companion instead. I cut myself like Darla told me." She stopped, and demonstrated, brushing her thumb along her exposed cleavage, "But she was being a bad girl. She fought and wouldn't drink, and I had to snap her neck." She looked up at Elijah. "I didn't mean to kill them. I'm sorry. Don't hurt me! I'm sorry."_

_Elijah said nothing, merely took her hand and sat her down on the bed. She pulled her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees, rocking up and down, a childlike terror contorting her features. After a moment he told her, as gently as he could, "I don't care about that."_

_She looked up hopefully._

_Elijah continued, "I just want to know about my brother. Klaus." She cried out softly at the sound of his name, her spine straightening automatically, before she curled herself into a tighter ball. "I know you saw him," Elijah urged, "I need you to tell me where he went."_

_"No, no," she moaned, squeezing her eyes shut, "He's not nice at all. He'll kill me a thousand times over before he ends my life." Her eyes shot open, and she looked desperately at Elijah, a panicked madness settling in the dark depths of her gaze, and she cried, "Why isn't he like us? Darla said he wasn't, that they weren't, but he's not like _her_ either. Or him. Or you. Why not? His eyes are wrong. They're yellow and gold and sick… on the inside. Why does he have a wolf in him? It's trying to claw its way out of its cage… a magic cage. Why are his eyes yellow?"_

_Elijah upper lip pulled up in a frustrated snarl, and in a flash he was overtop of her, one hand wrapped around her slender throat, the other holding a wooden stake above her heart. She froze, and he pushed it down slightly, the tip pressing between her breasts, drawing blood. "I need you to tell me where Klaus is," he said, allowing his anger to sharpen his words, "Or I will kill you."_

_She giggled, tears springing into her eyes. "I can't. No, no, no, no…."_

_With a low growl, Elijah flew off her, biting back his vehemence, and exiting the room, fury making his walk brisk as he left her behind on the bed, babbling deliriously to herself, her laughter mixed with low sobs._

It was nighttime, but barely, and as Jeremy checked the clock behind the bar, he was gratified to notice his shift was only a few minutes from ending. Still, he surveyed the tables, frowning as he took in the lack of patrons. During a hot summer's evening, such as tonight, the resident's of Mystic Falls usually filled the restaurant to the brink. It was empty… save for a single customer.

He had missed her during his casual scan, which wasn't altogether surprising, given just how little in the way of sleep he was getting on a nightly basis. The brief glimpses of the dead hardly helped matters, and as he approached the woman at the table, taking in her dark locks of hair and pale skin, a part of him half-expected it to be his former girlfriend sitting quietly in the metal seat. The woman raised her face, and he did a double take when he saw it wasn't Anna before him. She was pleasing to look at, and he drank in her features, admitting to himself she bore a certain resemblance to Anna in her delicate looks, and wide-eyed dark gaze. She flashed him a radiant smile, her white teeth particularly dazzling next to the deep red hue of her lips.

He shook his head, and stumbled over his customary lines as he said, "May I- uh, take your… order, please?"

She gave a trilling laugh. "Oh I'm not very hungry," she said, her accented words light and musical. "I'll just have a… drink."

"Would you like to see our menu?" Jeremy asked, cursing himself for forgetting to bring it over. She shook her head.

"I'm not picky, dearie. Surprise me."

He nodded, catching himself as he realized his head was bobbing up and down like a demented doll. "Alright," he said, and then before he turned to go back behind the bar, he asked, "If you don't mind- are you new here? I've don't recall seeing you around before."

"New, old," she murmured, a secretive smile curving at her lips, "I'm just passing through on my way to the city of angels."

"Los Angeles," Jeremy said, impressed. "Interesting. Not that it's any of my business, but… have fun. Well… I'll be going, then. For a drink. To surprise you." Face turning red, he spun around and made his hasty retreat towards the bar, glad he didn't do something extra stupid, like trip over his own feet. The soft laughter that trailed after him didn't serve to improve his feeling of embarrassed dismay. He was thankfully quick in her order, and fixed her a coffee, the very one he vaguely remembered Bonnie complimenting. Bonnie. He felt a faint stirring of guilt, but pushed it away. Just because he was _attracted_ to the woman didn't mean he was doing anything wrong. He wasn't about to act on some errant desire.

The woman, and he realized he had forgotten to get her name, had changed positions. One leg was now crossed over the other, giving him an easy view of her smooth thighs. He blushed, averting his gaze, and handed her the drink.

She took it, her smile crawling up her cheeks, revealing all of her teeth. She gripped the cup, and her fingers brushed against his. They were cold, he discovered, freezing. But she had withdrawn her touch in less than a second, yanking herself violently away, skittering backwards, her chair squealing in protest as it was flung away in her haste to back up. The coffee fell from his grip, shattering as it hit the ground, the hot liquid seeping into his shoes. He stared at her in annoyance, which rapidly shifted to confusion as he took in her expression.

She was shocked, and terrified. Her pupils were huge circles; her mouth formed a comical 'o'. She shuddered, and then narrowed her eyes, backing up warily. "You shouldn't be alive," she hissed, "The dead should not walk alongside the rest of humanity." She bared her teeth in a primal display. "There will be consequences." Jeremy shook himself, kneading at his eyes with his knuckles. There was a pause, and then the distant rattling of the door, and when he opened his eyes again, she was gone.

Days later, a familiar sensation prickled along Angel's spine, and he clenched his jaw, whirling around and finding _her_ in his room, waiting for him lazily. She was beautiful, though her beauty was marred by the madness in her eyes and her twisted smile. "Angelus," she purred.

"Drusilla," he replied, and she giggled. He was in no mood for her games, however, and decided to cut to the chase. With a roar, he raced forward, shoving her into the wall before she could move. She slammed against in, screaming in pain and rage. Both of their faces abruptly changed- their vampiric sides becoming instantaneously evident. A growl rumbled in his throat, but she only laughed, ceasing her struggles, not bothering to resist.

With another laugh, this one more maniacal, her face morphed back into a human appearance, and her lips tilted into a dreamy smile. "Hello, daddy."

"Don't call me that," Angel said coolly, allowing his own face to drop back into a human form. He pressed his forearm against her throat, and she tried to squirm away. "Why are you here?" he demanded.

She choked out a giggle, and then said, "For you, lover." She arched her neck upwards, licking at his throat. He pulled back, to her apparent delight.

"I should kill you now."

She examined him, and he was chilled by her sudden look of cunning calculation. "But you won't," she said bluntly, and then with a crazed smile added, "You feel responsible for me. I can feel your rotted soul, all corrupted and distorted with death and blame, and you always smell of guilt when you see me now. You sired me, and now you won't kill me."

"I've sired plenty and killed many of them," Angel returned without missing a beat, determined not to let Drusilla engage him in a lengthy debate.

She shrugged, as much as she could with Angel's restraining arms pinning her against the wall. "But you didn't just sire me," she said craftily, "you hurt me first. Tortured me. Killed everyone, and then stole my future. You recreated me. _Daddy_." With a trembling giggle, she shoved him away, and he didn't fight against her. Out of breath, she continued, panting, "That's why you won't kill me. Because you're so _human_ now."

Angel nodded. "You're right," he conceded, "I don't want to kill you. But I will if I have to, so I'd advise you against refusing to respond to any more of my questions. Start talking. Why are you here?" he asked again, louder.

"Same reason as you," she said cryptically, and then clarified, "To kill help you kill the creature you're hunting."

Angel blinked. "Stefan Salvatore?"

A frown lined her forehead, and she looked at him with a mix of disdain and confusion. "Of course not, silly. He's nothing, just _his_ companion. I mean the other one. The one he came with." Her face smoothened as she leaned forward, waiting for him to reply, to figure it out, to piece together the puzzle that had been troubling him since Jane Knight had first shown up on the hotel's door. A sense of relief flooded through him, as he recognized that at least part of the mystery was about to be solved.

He took a second, considering her words, and then trying to figure out who she was referring too. The answer came quickly. Jane Knight had said there had been two people in the alley, one being Stefan, and the other… the other…. "Is he blond?" Angel asked Drusilla. "Blond and handsome?"

"Yeah," she replied sweetly, "Pretty, pretty man with awful malice beneath the skin. Do you know him?" She assessed him. "Perhaps just his reputation, then? Maybe not even that."

"Tell me."

"He is Klaus." She breathed the name, watching him closely for a reaction. "He's an Original, one of the ones Darla told us about. They all say he's the worst. The cruelest. I met him once upon a time. I think he liked me. He said some very flattering things to me. Lovely, kind words. He isn't. Just lonely, lonely, lonely, trying to fill that gap by weaving an exquisite tapestry out of blood and pain, and then smothering the world with it."

"I'd think you'd like that," Angel told her wryly.

"Oh, yeah," she sighed, "It'd be _fantastic_. A river of blood and a lullaby of screams every night…. But I don't like _him_. He scares me. Makes me _nervous_. And _they_ don't like him at all. She especially. She tells me all sorts of secrets, whispers them into my ear. She wants me to help you kill him. She says he never should have existed. That a hybrid is an affront to what should be, and he should not. She tells me to correct her mistake. To end his life."

"A hybrid?"

"He's worse than a regular Original, see? He's different. He's a werewolf, too. And she's very insistent that I help you kill him. Kill him dead, not just asleep. There's a difference, or was. Not anymore. Not important. Never mind. Like little monsters hopping on the bed, and the glow of eyes in the dark, creatures pouncing on half-dead prey, and shadows singing in my sleep and light carving brands into my arms. You know?"

"Drusilla," Angel said urgently, holding her arms together. She quieted. "Who is 'she'?"

She shook her head from side to side. "Not for you to know," she sang, "Maybe later. We don't want you to blab."

"If you're going to work with me, you're going to have to tell me! Drusilla!"

She seemed to be ignoring him, focused on the air behind his shoulder. "Fine!" she yelled, "She says I can tell. She's the Original Witch. Esther! She talks to me. She says I can see things; understand things no one else can. That's how she communicates with me. And I'm dead, too. That helps, because so is she."

"Who is she?" Angel said deliberately, taking her chin in his hands and forcing her to meet his eyes.

Drusilla tried half-heartedly to pull away, but then murmured, so low Angel could barely hear it. "She's his mother. Mommy." With a snort, Angel released her, and she whimpered, rubbing her arms. "Believe me?" she asked plaintively.

To his surprise, Angel found himself nodding. "I do," he said honestly, "I just don't trust you not to betray me, Drusilla."

"I won't, I swear," she promised, "I'll be good."

"Alright," he relented, running his fingers through his hair. "Fine. As long as we have the same goal, I'll let you help."

"Goody!"

"But if, even for a second I think your motives differ from mine even by the slightest of a degree, _I_ swear I will kill you Drusilla. I'll just have to add that guilt to the rest. I only have one condition."

"Yes?"

"You help me kill Stefan Salvatore first. Once he's dead, we go after Klaus."

Her lips curled into a dark smile. "With pleasure."


	6. Chapter 6

_She looked splendid and simultaneously out of place amid London's wealthy class. The dance music was slow and had an even, steady tempo, gentlemen in dark suits spinning their lovers and mistresses and wives around to the beat of the orchestra. The women there were clad in bright colors, the more elegant ones looking like exotic creatures and jungle birds, the others simply appearing garish. By contrast, Drusilla was dressed in pitch black, her bodice low cut and scandalously revealing, the end of her dress brushing against the marble floor. She was lovely, and she was bored._

"_Could you be any more jaded?" a voice beside her asked. A part of her instantly knew who he was, his name to rest tantalizingly close to her mind, right on the tip of her tongue._

"_I'm not jaded," she said, turning towards him, "Just fed-up with this nonsense. They do this all the time. It's so tame. So dreary. So bland. And the ladies are so brightly colored, dressed in such vibrant garments, but there's still not enough red. It's annoying." She smiled. "My name is Drusilla."_

"_Yes," the man mused, "Drusilla. I've heard that name before, from the mouths of scared little creatures. They speak of you so fearfully, with dread shining in their eyes. They say you can see things. Is this true?"_

_She looked at him. "Yes?" she said tentatively, and then her smile spread over her lips, widening to ghastly proportions. Her teeth glittered in the light. She titled her head, her pale tongue flicking around red lips."Yes," she continued, more firmly, her voice dropping to a low, sultry murmur. She examined him. "Do you want me to prove it, dear? I can. I will. You have yellow eyes… inside out! A wolf in a cage and violent loneliness clawing in your gut." She grinned as his eyes widened, then narrowed, but a small part of her was unnerved. She tried to deny it, but the honest truth of the matter was he frightened her. Something about him set her off balance, nagging in the back of her mind, and whispering to her words of advice to run and hide. She shuddered._

_There was a moment full of unspoken menace, where he stared at her apathetically, as if deciding what to do. He finally laughed. "Correct on all counts, lovely. You truly are extraordinary, as they say. Fantastic. My pretty darling, do you know what a hybrid is? Or a doppelganger?"_

"_No," she said timidly, afraid of how he would react. He only laughed._

"_Never mind, then." He took her hand, and his grip was hard and cold, the same as his eyes as they continued to drill into her. She curled her fingers around his nonetheless, and he smiled again. "Klaus," he introduced himself._

"_You said you wanted more red?" Klaus asked, turning to face the crowd, an inhuman look of sadistic delight and calm consideration moving rapidly across his features. She nodded eagerly, bouncing up and down in anticipation._

"_Yes," she giggled. _

_He smiled. They danced, and then later they slaughtered the entire crowd, painting the mansion in beautiful reds that ranged from dark crimson hues to shades of the fairest ruby. _

"You recruited… _Drusilla_?" Cordelia sputtered, her outrage expressed in the wide circle of her mouth and the bulge of her eyes. "Drusilla? Seriously?" Disgusted, she physically turned away from Angel and stalked over to Gunn. "He can't be serious," she stated indignantly. Almost absentmindedly, she touched the gaudy locket dangling from her neck, a new ornament, filled with the vervain Wesley had requested from his friend. Although the men had refused to wear the herb in jewelry as she did, they were easily persuaded to carry the flower in their pockets, and Cordelia had begun to add it to the coffee, reasoning that the taste could only improve.

"Absolutely not," Gunn said darkly, glaring at Angel.

Even Wesley looked angry, though there was a thoughtful look in his eyes that made Angel optimistic. Still, his words were less than congratulatory. "Angel," he urged, leaning forward ever-so-slightly, "I insist that you rethink this. Drusilla's madness and instability is legendary. You must know this better than anyone."

"Because I spent decades with her or because I sired her?" Angel asked, not bothering to conceal his irritation. Wesley drew back, a look of weary annoyance crossing his face. "Look," Angel continued abruptly, "You're right. She's insane." Wesley eyed him. "… _but_. She's not lying. We need to kill Stefan, we need to kill Klaus. That's it. That's the mission. She's a means to an end, nothing more, nothing less. Don't overanalyze this, Wesley. If she steps out of line, I will personally drive a stake through her heart."

"That's reassuring," Wesley said dryly, examining his friend with a new look of concerned speculation. "But quite frankly, Angel, you haven't exactly been all that reliable in the past with your former-"

"Murder pals," Cordelia cut in bitterly.

Wesley glowered, "I was going to put it more delicately than that," he murmured as he turned back to Angel. "But look at your track record, Angel. If I may be candid-" he glanced briefly at Angel, but didn't stop to wait for a response "you really can't be trusted to make the best decisions when it comes to your former… murder pals."

Angel nodded, an impatient light sparking in his eyes. His expression darkened as he licked at his lips, considering. "All of you," he addressed them; his voice carefully modulated and deceptively gentle, "I know our pasts has been at times… rocky. But we need to look at the big picture here. What you need to understand is that this vampire species is a true threat, and one important enough for Drusilla to be seeing things about it. We need to be willing to take risks so we can properly deal with this… with this 'Ripper' Stefan, and especially with Klaus." He began to walk forward, brow furrowed with intent. "By all accounts he is the worst vampire… probably in the entire world. Now, you tell me- truthfully- if you can stomach the thought of passing up an opportunity like this- to kill a one thousand year old hybrid murderer."

Cordelia and Gunn both averted their gazes, inching back slightly, minuscule displays of deference. The vampire in him, the demon he couldn't quite rid himself of, soul or not, took note of their submission, and, in some primitive way, was satisfied. His mood lightened.

Only Wesley seemed determined to hold out, though Angel sensed he was weakening. The cracks in the former watcher's composure drew him in, the desire to move in for the kill overwhelming. There was a tense moment, and as expected, Wesley broke off first. "Fine," he grudgingly relented, and once again the beast in Angel sighed contentedly.

"I'm glad to hear it," he said honestly, and then his confidence slipped, replaced by something almost resembling embarrassment. He coughed nervously, and then called out, "Drusilla. You can come in now." He locked eyes with each member of his team, warning, "Don't you dare stake her. Cordelia… I'm looking at you."

With a girlish laugh, Drusilla sauntered into the room, weaving her way through Wesley's mound of books with a trancelike ease. Angel shifted awkwardly, as the rest of the room's occupants took turns staring frightfully at her, and glaring balefully at him. Drusilla tilted her head to the side, and said in a soft, dazed voice, "I don't think they like me, Daddy." A petulant scowl tugged at her lips, and she moved in behind Wesley, who gave a shrill shriek as he recoiled, snatching a wooden cross from the desk and turning to face her. "Back, wicked creature of the night! Back, I say!"

Drusilla's lower lip wobbled and her eyes shone with tears. Angel half-expected her to burst into sobs, but instead she began to giggle, weeping silently as she doubled over. Regaining control, she flashed the watcher as grin, and his cheeks flushed scarlet as he settled the cross down, shamefaced. The blush refused to fade, even as he shot at her his customary round of questions, his voice cracking as he voiced the obvious diversions. "So, uh, this… Angel, he, um, said you mentioned… he told us what you told him. About Esther."

Drusilla nodded sagely, stepping around a clearly on-edge Gunn. "And Klaus, right? He killed her. They called it matricide. The killing of a mother."

"Lovely," Cordelia said, the word escaping her in a tight hiss. Drusilla cocked her head, a peculiar expression, one of vague interest and playful amusement occupying her features as she approached the woman, her otherworldly gait slightly quicker now.

"Yes," Drusilla said, moving in from behind the woman, her eyes blinking sleepily as she lowered her face against the back of Cordelia's neck. "Lovely." Coming from Drusilla's lips, the word was one of infinite promise and secrets, the key to a world of dark mysteries and forbidden pleasures. Cordelia shivered as Drusilla's icy hand crept up, snaking up and under the top of Cordelia's shirt, fingering her sternum with a tender touch. She made her hand into a claw, and then pressed her fingernails against Cordelia's chest, each one tapping lightly against the yielding flesh between Cordelia's ribs. She pushed them in slightly, only enough to accentuate her next words. "Just like… that," she breathed, nuzzling Cordelia's throat, her grip slackening and her hand sliding down farther as she molded herself around the other woman. Cordelia inhaled quickly, her chest rising as she yanked herself from the vampire's grip.

"Cut it out," she snapped, "Not in the mood right now. Angel!" she whined, a plea in her voice, "Do something!"

"Yes," Angel agreed, coming up to stand next to Cordelia. "Just tell us how we kill Stefan. Him first, then we kill Klaus."

"Am I to have no fun at all?" Drusilla pouted, sitting down on the corner of the desk.

Angel merely stared, and she gave a grimace. "Kill him with a stake, silly. Wood and fire and decapitation. She says tearing out the heart is effective, too. As is burning in the sunlight. Pretty sunshine. We light up like bonfires, they sizzle as well. But… those last ones are much harder to manage. No reason to trouble yourselves with all that difficult work."

"Drusilla," Angel began, "That's all terrific, but perhaps I should rephrase. Where is Stefan? Right now? Tell me his location."

Her eyes glazed over as she stared at an invisible shape off in the distance. Angel frowned. Was she consulting the Original Witch, right at this moment, or was she simply utilizing her 'normal' extra-senses? He couldn't tell, but in a short minute it was over, Drusilla's eyes cleared, and she snapped up, jumping from the desk and frowning even as a cool smile twisted the corners of her mouth. "Don't be angry," she demurred, "But they've gone. Vanished. Disappeared. Well," she reconsidered, "Not really. Just the very former. Or the latter two, to you, I suppose."

The first thought to enter Angel's head was shit. "Where?" Angel asked after a long, frustrated pause, his mind reeling in a combination of aggravation and resigned fatigue. She hesitated, and he fought the urge to shake the answer out of her. "Drusilla."

"You're upset."

"Drusilla," he repeated, and the sound of her name, again, seemed to have the desired effect.

"This was only a vacation, Daddy. He was him to loosen up a bit. Have fun. Just a break from the typical routine, I guess. They're back in business. Hunting… something." She ran her hands down her arms as if to warm herself. Before he could ask- demand- a more precise answer, she said, "In the east coast. They're travelling, and she says as much, but it won't do you any good to try and find them. She says to wait until he settles, until he inevitably fails."

"Stefan? Until Stefan fails at what?"

"Not Stefan!" she yelled, covering her ears. "It's Klaus, you fool. He's the only one that matters to her. Why would she care about Stefan? It's like I told you. Stefan is nobody, just _his_ companion."

"A friend of Klaus?" Cordelia interrupted disbelievingly, "I thought you said he was super evil."

"Well," Drusilla purred, "So was dear Stefan, too. You think he's a monster, now, but trust me when I say this is one of his _better_ moments. They were very close, once, him and Klaus. Not anymore really, so no, not friends, as much as Klaus would prefer him to be."

Wesley was shaking his head. "We're getting off track," he said, "What is _Klaus_ going to fail at then?"

"Creating more hybrids," Drusilla said quizzically, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "He can't succeed. She built in a failsafe, incase he ever broke her spell. If the doppelganger is dead, creating more hybrids is impossible, because her blood is the key. To it all. And he thinks she's dead. He won't know to look her; he won't know what's wrong, except that they'll keep dying. And then she will die, eventually, and he'll be alone forever and ever."

"Wait- what?" Cordelia asked, and by Gunn's equally confounded expression, he seemed to share her sentiment.

Drusilla rolled her eyes, bored. "It doesn't matter. He's the only hybrid. That's how it will be. We just have to wait for him to realize this. Then they'll stop moving, and we can kill him."

"Stefan first," Gunn said.

"Stefan first," she agreed, already losing her interest. "Shall we wait? Not here, of course. We should be prepared."

"Where, then?" Angel asked.

"Mystic Falls," she said softly, biting lightly on her lip. "That's where Stefan will come home."


	7. Chapter 7

A.N.- Hi! Alright, this is a bit of a time jump from the last chapter, which takes place at about the same time Season 3 of the Vampire Diaries starts. This chapter takes place a few hours before the events of The Reckoning. Please review! Thx for reading!

_The soft electric light mixed with the glow of the candlelit chandeliers' glinted lowly off the diamond-studded feathers worn in Darla's hair as she spun in a quick circle, flashing Drusilla a wide grin, her teeth glittering as the thin fabric of her skirts whirled around her pale legs. Dancing forward, Darla laughed in delight as she pulled against Drusilla's arm, whisking her towards the dance floor. _

_Drusilla giggled as Darla spun her around in a tight circle. "You're pretty tonight, grandmummy," she smiled._

_A quick frown flitted across Darla's face, briefly marring her otherwise pleased expression. She rolled her eyes. "And you look radiant my dear," she returned indifferently, her mellifluous voice wrapping around the dancers like an invisible fog, and Drusilla could feel it as they suddenly sensed its phantom presence, and perked up at its sensual melody, smiles becoming genuine, laughter buoyant and reserve vanishing, as they pulled themselves more tightly against their partners. _

_Darla's lips quirked into a smile as she stopped moving, and caught Drusilla's chin in her gloved hand. She turned Drusilla's face towards a couple slowly rocking on the floor, her grin expanding as Drusilla tilted her head to stare at them, her eyes narrowing. There was a haunting familiarity about the girl's features, a strange resemblance to the face of another… or perhaps the same. Drusilla couldn't tell at the moment, and she scowled. _

_Darla released the other woman, and her silky voice, full with thrilled satisfaction, flowed gently into Drusilla's ear. "Tell me what you see, darling."_

_Drusilla's lips parted, and her lips curved into a cruel smile. "I see a pretty blonde. She's flushed with pleasure- see how red her cheeks are, and how tightly she embraces her lover? And," her voice sank into a whisper-quiet murmur, "I see him. He's lovely. And his smile is so… cold." She turned abruptly to Darla, an eager hunger glowing in her gaze, "Are they going to be snacks, grandmummy?" she asked breathlessly, "Or supper? They look very tasty." She giggled madly. "Good enough to eat," she said, turning her face towards Darla's. With a start, Drusilla felt her grandsire's irritation before it materialized on her features. She flinched back, a low whimper creeping from her throat._

"_Darling," Darla said slowly, false patience battling with suppressed amusement, "They aren't food. If you're hungry, go kill someone, but there is a reason I wanted you here. Now," she continued lowly, "Keep your tone soft, dear, but the blonde is someone very powerful." The smile that played over her pink lips was one of sincere affection, and Drusilla's confusion amplified. Her voice dropped another octave as she went on in a secretive tone, "She's one of the Originals I told you about. Her name is Rebekah."_

_Drusilla's eyes widened. "I know her. That's from where. She's in my dreams, grandmummy. But she's human, there. She cries and bleeds. She's burying someone."_

"_Really?" Darla asked disbelievingly, a note of weary doubt saturating the word._

"_They're in my dreams," Drusilla affirmed sleepily._

"_Of course they are, dear. Now, Rebekah is very important and strong, so you mustn't let her know you're here. But tell me more about the man. Close your eyes and tell me what you _see_." She emphasized the last word, and Drusilla understood._

_She closed her eyes and relaxed, leaning back against Darla's cool frame, the smooth cloth of the woman's dress brushing against her skin as the other vampire supported her. "He's dead, grandmummy. His heart is beating, but he is dead. He kills, and keeps the memory fresh, writing the names onto his wall so he can savor the taste of them as the die... over and over and over again. He's all in red. Like a fancy suit, he dresses himself in blood. I want clothing made from blood- I want a bed with sheets like liquid life."_

"_Concentrate, Drusilla," Darla chided, "Don't get distracted."_

_Drusilla's breath escaped her in a soft, aroused moan. "He sings with the blood of innocents. He savors their screams, replaying their last minutes like a song and a movie."_

_"Yes, Drusilla. Isn't he wonderful?" Drusilla opened her eyes as Darla went on, a delightful purr in her voice. "I've seen what he does to his victims, the way he tears them apart. He reminds me of Angelus-"_

"_Daddy," Drusilla broke in hopefully, and Darla's jaw twitched as she clenched it. _

"_Yes, daddy," Darla said tightly, "He reminds me so much of him. I'm getting lonely, and maybe someday I'll have to accept the fact that Angelus is gone."_

"_You want him as your playmate?" Drusilla surmised. Darla said nothing, merely nodded and waved a waiter over. He offered her a platter covered in champagne glasses, and Darla took one with a cool smile, her gloved fingers wrapped lightly around the slender glass. _

"_Don't pout, Drusilla," Darla said sternly, "Angelus is gone, and I want someone that reminds me of how he was in his prime. Someone… like this Stefan Salvatore. He's so vicious and sadistic… it seems a shame to simply leave without him."_

_Drusilla's frown deepened, as she glared at the couple on the floor, wrapping in each other's arms. Then, something caught her gaze and she looked up quickly, catching sight of the one with yellow-for-eyes, and he was smiling- a rather fond expression, but one that chilled her to her core- as he watched the lovers dance together. Her eyes flashed to the pair on the floor, and she breathed in rapidly, inhaling as she locked her gaze on the man. She froze, and began to tremble, pushing past Darla to exit the bar. With an exasperated groan, Darla followed, and when they were out in the alleyway, the blonde grabbed the younger vampire's arms. "What are you doing?" she demanded._

_Drusilla shivered violently, her eyes squeezed shut. "Don't, please, don't. He's here."_

"_Who?" Darla snapped, "_Who_, Drusilla?"_

"_Klaus," Drusilla said, her voice a fragile gasp against the air. "Klaus is here."_

"_So?"_

"_And they know him! Stefan is _tainted_ with him. Klaus will hunt us down if we take him. We have to leave!" her voice turned shrill, and her eyes bore frantically into Darla's._

"_Fine," Darla sighed, "I don't even care. I'll see if I can find someone else equally brutal. I've heard he has a brother…."_

"So you're a teacher?" Cordelia asked the man sitting beside her. She was in the 'famous' Mystic Fall's restaurant, or rather, in one of the tables directly outside of it, and was nursing a half-empty cup of coffee in her hands. The sun had risen about an hour ago, and the air hung heavy with the humid residue of a rainy night. Still, the day was pleasantly warm, and the fall colors of the trees surrounding the sidewalk were glorious, the autumn leaves vibrant and colorful.

"Yes," the man said with a smile. He was clutching a cup of coffee in his hands, though she suspected that was not entirely by choice, considering the way he had hastily backed down after the woman behind the bar had glared at him as he had initially tried to order a beer. "High school, actually. History."

"Ah," Cordelia said absently, remembering her own history classes. "Eager students, right?"

"Kind of," he laughed, "Actually, I think they're planning on senior prank night tonight. I hope nobody glues my desk shut or anything silly like that."

Cordelia gave a quick burst of laughter. "I wouldn't bet on it," she smirked. "Alaric, right?"

"Glad to see you remembered," Alaric smiled. "Cordelia?"

"That's what my parents have been calling me," she joked.

"Are you new to town?" he asked her, and she nodded.

"I'm staying with some friends."

"Friends? Do you mind me asking who? I've seen a few new people in town, and I'm just wondering if they're with you."

"Sure," Cordelia said, and then held up a hand and began listing them, ticking their names off on her fingers as she did so. "Drusilla, Gunn, Wesley, Angel…."

"Unusual names," he commented, and she smiled again.

"I know, right? But you probably haven't seen Drusilla and Angel around here. They're kind of… nocturnal, and don't tend to wander out during the daytime."

Was it her imagination, or did his eyes sudden spark with renewed intensity? "Really?" he asked, and she thought his gaze flickered briefly to her hands, and then the hollow of her throat before returning almost instantaneously to her face. "I wonder why that is."

"Oh, it's nothing you need to worry about. They aren't serial killers. Or," she continued under her breath, "Angel isn't- anymore."

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Alaric asked, and she shook her head.

"Not a word!" she replied cheerfully, than slurped away the rest of the coffee. Compared to the office variety she was usually forced to drink, this was bliss. As she swallowed the rest of the invigorating beverage, she wondered if this was what paradise was.

"Well," she said, standing, "It's been really nice talking with you- and thanks for telling me about the Illumination Night, by the way, but I honestly don't think I'll show."

"I can't blame you," Alaric said drily, standing as well. "Maybe we could get together… another time?"

"That'd be great!" Cordelia enthused, and pulled a pen and crumpled sheet of paper out of her purse. She scribbled her cell phone number on it, and handed it to him. "That's actually Angel's phone, but mine kind of broke. Still, just tell him to put me on the line!"

Looking slightly bemused, he pocketed the number, and took her empty Styrofoam coffee cup off the table before she retrieved it. "I can throw that away," he volunteered, and then said, almost with something resembling embarrassment in his voice, "Is Angel your boyfriend?" he asked, and then flinched slightly. "If that isn't to personal."

"Not at all," Cordelia replied, "No. He is not. At all. My boyfriend. None of them are. We're definitely just friends."

"Maybe I can meet them," Alaric suggested, a slightly forced note of innocent interest in his tone.

"Sure," Cordelia shrugged, and then turned to leave. "See you soon!"

He smiled. "You too."

Back in the boarding house where the member's of Angel Investigation (along with one seductive mad vampire) were currently staying at, Cordelia threw herself onto her bed.

"Did you have fun at the coffeehouse?" a dark voice came from the shadows behind her, and she yelped, pulling herself backwards.

"Angel! Don't do that!"

"What am I supposed to do?" he returned, "And the cable went out. It's getting pretty boring. At least the rest of you have the option of leaving. Talking about leaving," a teasing smile suddenly transformed his face, "You were gone for an awfully long time."

"Was not. It was only," Cordelia looked at her watch, "Two hours? Okay, maybe I stayed out a little longer than was necessary for a caffeine break, but I met a guy, and is that really any of your business, because I think not." Out of breath now, she stared accusingly at the bewildered vampire.

"Well, I didn't-"

Cordelia plopped back onto the bed. "And, head's up, you may get a call on your phone from said guy (his name is Alaric, by the way) please answer, or I will drive a stake through your heart myself. Don't be all broody vamp on him, just put me through, got it?"

"Uh…"

"Terrific!" She lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes.

"Actually Cordelia…."

"Hm?"

"Cordelia, this is important. I've already told Gunn and Wesley, and you should probably pay attention now."

"I'm listening. Hurry up."

"Fine," Angel grunted, annoyance practically radiating from his undead body. "Drusilla saw something… I'm not going to pretend to understand half of what she said- lot of talk about yellow-eyed beasts and glowing blood- but the gist of it, underneath the nonsense, was that Klaus is coming, Stefan in tow. She doesn't know when, exactly, but she says something is wrong. He's figured out part the hybrid spell, or at least something to do with the doppelganger, and apparently he wasn't supposed to. She's worried, and so is… Esther. Either way, she wants us to be ready."

"How ready?"

"I'm not sure. She doesn't want us to do battle tonight- if that's what you're wondering- but she's worried. Anxious. I want us to wait until Klaus makes a move, shows his hand."

"Fine," Cordelia said, opening her eyes and pushing herself up towards him. She gazed into his eyes. "And then what?"

"Then we kill them."


	8. Chapter 8

_He was lovely and ruthless, but he wasn't Angelus, and that upset her. It wasn't hard to conceal her displeasure in this, he was beautiful and incredibly entertaining, but he wasn't for keeps, not in the way Angelus had been, and not in the way Stefan was. But Drusilla had warned her away from the younger Salvatore, and Darla knew better than to ignore Drusilla's advice, mad as they could sometimes seem, and she had not attempted to introduce herself to Stefan._

_She had had high hopes for his brother, but was sad to see he did not live up to them. Perhaps, she mused as he stroked her hair and kissed her lips and neck, she had set her expectations a tad too high for Damon. After all, the awful brutality of his brother's killings didn't mean he would be the same. This she knew. But still, it was somehow disappointing to see him feed- oh he'd kill, willingly and happily, and they'd often spend many a hunt together, but he seemed to lack that utterly cold and incredibly sadistic violent drive that had encouraged Stefan to tear his victims into little pieces and carve their names onto his wall. This one killed, but tended to not to extend his maiming beyond the neck, and sometimes he'd even leave his girls alive if he was in the mood for it. _

_He wasn't Stefan, and Darla didn't fault him for it. But when she left Chicago, it was not Damon she missed, but his brother. Though she did not regret heeding Drusilla's advice, not exactly, she did regret never formally meeting Stefan, and in later decades she found herself wondering what had become of him, and what his smile would have looked like, covered in blood. _

Drusilla had known instantly that Klaus had left, and therefore Angel had as well. Whimpering and babbling about yellow-eyed monsters, Drusilla had hidden in a darkened corner of the boardinghouse room and spent several hours clutching her head- fingers knotting through dark hair- and sobbing, her plaintive voice weeping for Esther and forgiveness and Darla. Within the hour everyone in Angel Investigations was aware of Klaus' disappearance, but it had taken them much longer to realize Stefan had _stayed_.

Shortly before discovering this fact, Cordelia had been enjoying another cup of coffee with Alaric when Stefan had sauntered down the street, whistling a cheerful tune as he did so. At first she hadn't spared him a second glance- prior to this she had only heard about him, never seen him in person- and he was walking in the day, which for her immediately ruled out vampire. To her he was just another man strolling through the autumn streets of Mystic Fall's and soaking in the still-warm weather.

In the end, it was Alaric who unintentionally keyed her in to the identity of the man. He had glanced at the street, and then froze for an instant. He let out a grumble, and had sighed in displeasure, leaning back in his chair slightly as the man continued down the street and vanished around the next corner.

"What is it?" Cordelia asked curiously. She hadn't been concerned, for the look on his face appeared more irked than genuinely worried, but his strange reaction had nonetheless piqued her interest.

It had taken him a second for him to realize she had said anything; his mind was clearly focused on other matters. He blinked, rapidly, and stared at her for a brief moment before snapping himself together. "Nothing," he said, sounding slightly distracted- his eyes kept wandering to the spot where the man had been only a minute ago, and a slight frown darkened his gaze.

"Really?" she asked dubiously.

He turned fully towards her and smiled reassuringly. "Nothing," he had repeated, and though his tone was firmer, it held a new playful ring. "Just a student of mine. He's been a little… problematic in my class."

"Oh really?" she had responded, and then added as an afterthought, "Who?"

"His name is Stefan… Salvatore." Her jaw practically dropped, but Alaric must have missed her shock, for he then shifted the conversation onto other, less relevant matters.

She had vowed to contain her inevitable outburst until she reached Angel, and had managed to do so quite admirably.

Back at the boardinghouse, Cordelia was presently striding down the hallway to the rooms the members of Angel Investigations shared. She barged into through the door where Angel, Wesley and Gunn were all grouped around the now fully functional television, seemingly engrossed in whatever sport was on (Cordelia couldn't get more than a quick look, she was beginning to see red and she thought she was about to explode from the amount of incredulity she was currently experiencing), Cordelia walked up to the television and quickly shut off the power. The screen made a forlorn beeping sound and the image faded to black nothing.

There was a pause, and then the outraged clamor of the men as the sound of their voices competed loudly.

"Shut up!" she bellowed, and was gratified when they did so. With them now more attentive, she continued. "Guys, Stefan Salvatore is here." She had planned on teasing it out a bit, but then again she'd never had much of a knack for subtlety, especially when she was excited.

"How?" Wesley asked. He was trying to sound unruffled and professionally clinical, even politely skeptical, but he wasn't entirely successful at contain his surprise and his agitation was obvious. "How?" he prompted again.

"What do you mean 'how'?" Cordelia half-shouted, and then lowered her voice, breathing in and out dramatically. She waited a moment, and then went on."Okay," she said, calming herself, "I don't know all the details. But Stefan Salvatore didn't leave with Klaus. He's still here. And worse- he _walks in the sun_. I don't know if he has the Gem of Amarra, but if he does this is _bad_, guys. I don't know how we're going to kill him now."

"Okay," Gunn broke in, "First, he can't have the Gem of Amarra. Angel destroyed it. Second, how do you know Stefan is here?" he shrugged as Cordelia glared at him. "You never saw him."

Cordelia opened her mouth to speak, but Angel interrupted her before she could start to talk. "Wouldn't Drusilla have mentioned this to us?" he asked her. "It's not like she wouldn't have seen _something_. Stefan is our current aim. I know her she's focused on Klaus, but it's not like her attention is completely diverted, right?"

They all quieted suddenly, and in the still silence Drusilla could be faintly heard, jabbering to herself and giving hiccupping cries and whimpering between the words.

"Never mind." Angel muttered.

"But Gunn's right, Cordelia," Wesley said, "You never saw Stefan."

"Alright, I didn't see Stefan when you fought him on the roof. Neither did you, Wesley," she added pointedly, and he squirmed slightly. "But that doesn't matter. Alaric knows him, and he recognized him on the street. Today. In the sun. And before you ask, Alaric identified him by name. It is Stefan _Salvatore_, right?"

"Yes," Wesley reluctantly said, and then turned to Angel. "If he was in the sun- could there have been a duplicate gem?"

"I don't think there's more than the one gem, and that's gone."

"Maybe it was fixed," Gunn suggested, "Or someone, somehow recreated it. Magically? Or can these vampires walk in the sun naturally?"

"Drusilla told us they burn in the light like we do. And I never saw Katherine in the daylight," Angel said, shaking his head. "I don't pretend to be an expert- obviously this is all new to us, but I think we can safely rule out natural ability as the reason Stefan can walk in the sunlight."

"So it's magic, then," Cordelia concluded. "Do you want me to give Willow a call?"

Angel seemed to consider this for a moment. Then he said, "Not just yet. Let's try and keep this operation as small as possible for the time being."

"Fine. But now what? It's great that Stefan's here- except we can't exactly risk trying to stake him until we know what his secret is. For all we know, whatever is protecting him from the sunlight could also shield him from harm by wood and vervain."

"It's too dangerous," Gunn agreed, "We have no idea what we're going up against. All the rules have been changed."

Angel nodded, and then said, "Alright. I have a plan."

"Plan?" Cordelia asked doubtfully. "Really? Does it involve doing something incredibly stupid?"

He ignored her. "For starters, we wait for Drusilla to get a hold of herself, that is to say, a better hold than the one she has now."

"It's been over a week, Angel," Gunn said impatiently. "The only time she's out at all is at night when she's doing… who knows what. For all we know, this could continue on until she's dust."

"I know. And in the meantime I want you all to try and find out what you can about Stefan. Cordelia, you already know and like Alaric. He's a teacher, right? So I want you to go to his school, get to know more of Stefan's teachers. Speak to his friends; see if he has a human girlfriend. Anything. Ask around; find out as much information as possible. But be casual, don't do anything wild. Keep drinking vervain, just in case, and wearing your necklace." Angel stopped, and clenched his jaw. "I know it may not work," he told them bluntly, "but we have to keep trying. Wesley, Gunn, find out as much as you can about Mystic Falls. Find out about all the residents, learn everything you can about the town's secrets, its history- all the juicy and sordid details, and especially be on the lookout for any supernatural signs. _Everything_. Something's off about this place, and I need you to pinpoint it." He finished, and there was long silence in which everyone in the room examined each other, determined expressions worn on each of their faces.

Lips tight, Cordelia spoke for everyone when she said, "Consider it done."

Meanwhile, at the Salvatore mansion, another Salvatore, the brother of the Ripper, was having a terrible day. He stalked through the room at the base of the staircase, and was dismayed to see there were fresh blood splatters staining the wooden walls. "Terrific," he muttered to himself, raising his voice as he continued to walk, "You made a mess again, Stefan!" He drew out the sound of his brother's name, making it almost song-like, and he heard two low laughs in response, one male and one female. The feminine laughter broke off last, and as he walked through the door to the living room, he saw Rebekah smiling serenely at him, Stefan sitting on a sofa a short distance behind her.

"That was me, actually," Rebekah said warmly. "She was delicious. But Stefan had his own fun afterwards."

"Yeah, I know," Damon replied sourly, "I have all the evidence of his _fun_ right here." He took a few black-and-white crime scene photographs out of his pocket and shoved them at his brother.

Stefan rose lazily from his seat and shuffled through the photographs. "Looks gory," he commented lightly as he flipped through the pictures. "Did you know I saw Alaric earlier today?" he asked conversationally as he went through the stack. Without waiting for an answer he continued, "He has a new girlfriend. Very pretty." Finished, he looked up and with a mocking smile returned the photos to his brother. "But _this_- it wasn't me."

"Of course," Damon joked, "And I should absolutely believe that the crazed ripper had nothing to do with this new murder." He paused, and then added sarcastically. "If you can believe it, they're not even saying it's an animal attack, and that's practically their default response to this kind of stuff now."

Rebekah gave a breathless, exhilarated laugh as she jumped up from her chair and sat besides Stefan. "Thrilling!" she exclaimed.

"Believe whatever you want," Stefan said indifferently, and then pointed to the foremost photo, resting the tip of his finger on the girl's bloodied neck. "The bite looks more… dainty. Rebekah, did you…?" He trailed off as she stood.

"I don't think so," she frowned, and then stepped forward, "But I'd be happy to take a quick look." She snatched the first photo from Damon's hands and scanned it before passing it back. "Nope. Not me. Sorry boys."

"How about you, Damon?" Stefan asked, "That blood bag diet must be fraying your nerves a bit, huh? Maybe you got bored? Couldn't exactly blame you."

"It wasn't me, _brother_."

"Well, by all means, go ahead and deny it, but nobody here really _cares_ if you've killed."

"This is growing tedious," Rebekah said with an exaggerated yawn. "It wasn't me, it wasn't you, and it wasn't Stefan. Hello? There's another vampire." She rolled her eyes.

"Obviously." Stefan smirked, grinning at Damon, who scowled, and in his frustration threw the photos into the air. They scattered, and fell on the ground, the dead girl with the mangled throat staring up at them accusingly from the floor. With an angry snarl, Damon turned away and grabbed his cell phone from a nearby table. He punched in a few digits, and then held the phone to his ear, waiting for the receiving end to be picked up.

"Hello?" came a voice from the other end.

Damon didn't waste any time on niceties. "We have a new vampire in town."

"Are you sure?" Alaric asked.

"Fairly positive," he replied, "Meet you at the grill in an hour."


	9. Chapter 9

_Klaus could be amazingly secretive, but he would occasionally soften around his sister, and she always relished the stories he sometimes told her about the people he'd seen and the places he'd gone._

_Tonight, he was telling her about a mad vampire with a penchant for massacres and an extraordinary ability of understanding the world. _

_He told her that the vampire's name was Drusilla, and that he had met her in London, not more than a few decades ago. He told Rebekah how beautiful she had been, how dreamlike her movements were as she had danced her way across the scattered bodies he had left for her. He told his sister how she had seen his werewolf side, and the way she had very precisely sunk her fangs into her victim's necks before she'd consume their blood._

_Rebekah's attention never wavered, except at the very end, when finished, Klaus had looked up and wondered out loud whether he thought Stefan would be interested in that particular tale._

_Annoyed and strangely jealous, Rebekah had snapped, "He's mine, Nik. Not yours."_

_Klaus appeared almost hurt for a second, before the emotion solidified into cold anger. "Fine," he had responded brusquely, standing up and taking a step back from his sister. He shot her a dark glare as he had left the room, towards the glittering nightlife and endless champagne that awaited him at Gloria's bar. "Until you get bored, of course, sweetheart," he called over his shoulder, and his cruel laugh rang out after he had gone. _

"So," Alaric said, stabbing a chunk of his steak with his fork, "You think-" he paused to take a bite, and then continued, "That there's another vampire in town? How did you come to that conclusion, exactly?"

Damon shifted and gave a seemingly uncomfortable grin, but his eyes were full of unconcerned mirth. "Oh, you know how it goes, Ric. Two violent murderers living in your house, one vampiric crime committed, and said murderers deny any involvement. There must be a third party. Simple."

"Right," Alaric said, swallowing another bite, and then leaned forward, "Are you serious?"

"As serious as… very serious things… tend to be." Damon replied with a smirk.

"Alright, then." Alaric stopped, and forced away his incredulous expression, reaching over the table and grabbing his drink. "You're paying for this," he told the other man a second before he downed the drink's contents.

"Me?" Damon whined. "Why?"

"You owe me," Alaric said with a shrug, and Damon gritted his teeth.

"What for?"

"I don't know," Alaric snapped, "Pick something."

"I got it… you're still annoyed that I killed you," Damon surmised with a wide grin. "Fine. My feelings are hurt, but I'll get over it."

Alaric gave a sardonic smile, and stuffed the last bit of meat in his mouth. He chewed, and then swallowed, and then pushed the plate aside to lock eyes with Damon. "In all seriousness," he said, "I think there may be some merit to this." Damon cocked his head, and made a gesture with his hand, clearly inviting Alaric to explain. He did. "I've had my own suspicions about a possible new vampire threat," he admitted, "There's this girl that came to town…." He trailed off as Damon flashed yet another grin his way. "What?" he snapped, irritated with the interruption.

"Oh, nothing," Damon said, a touch to innocently to be believable. "Stefan told me about your new girlfriend. So you're saying she's a vamp, then? Intriguing."

"No," Alaric said, "I looked for a lapis lazuli amulet, and couldn't find any. And… she doesn't seem like a vampire. I'm a hunter- I can usually recognize a vampire when I see one." Damon rolled his eyes. "_But_," Alaric ground out, glaring, "She admitted she came with a group. She also hinted that at least some in the group don't venture out during the day, which leads me to believe that one of them might be a vampire." With a sigh, Alaric got up out of his seat. "What's the plan, Damon?"

Damon clenched his jaw, and then gave a blinding, beautiful smile without a trace of sincerity. "Arrange a meeting," he suggested, "And then give me the time and date. I'll get Rebekah and Stefan to come."

"Are you sure that's the best strategy?" Alaric asked, and Damon brushed the question away.

"Whatever," he dismissed, "I don't see you coming up with anything better. Look, Ric, this is how it's going to work." He splayed his hands out on the table, and stared unblinkingly at Alaric, pale blue eyes appearing both utterly mad and terribly calm. His maniac smile returned as he outlined his plan, "You get the girl to bring her friends over for a little get together. She'll probably want to say no, but you need to insist. Be nice, and get her… chocolate or something. Teddy bears with cute little hearts. Something like that. You send me the info, I'll grab Rebekah and Stefan, and then we'll camp out before they come. Then give them vervain spiked alcohol or something. I don't really care about the details. If they're undead, we'll kill them. If not, they won't even know we were there." Damon's smile looked vaguely demented, his eyes wild and full of frenzied energy. Delightedly, he said, "This is awesome, Ric! It can't _not_ work!"

Alaric didn't share in his friend's enthusiasm, but he conceded with a short, "Fine." He paused, and then said, "But no Stefan." As Damon's mouth opened to protest, Alaric quickly continued, "I really don't care, Damon. No Stefan, or no plan. He's a wild card, you know this. I don't want him disrupting what's already a very delicate situation. Got it?"

"Okay," Damon reluctantly agreed. "No Stefan. That's not too bad- Rebekah is an Original after all."

"Exactly," Alaric said, relieved, and then turned to leave. "You're paying," he reminded the vampire over his shoulder as he exited the grill. With a sigh, Damon slumped in his seat and began to tap out an erratic beat on the table with his finger. A waitress approached, and a new smile crossed his face as he perked up.

"Hello."

Less than a mile away, Alaric was rapidly dialing a string of numbers into his phone. He held the device to his ear as he anxiously waited for the woman on the other end to pick up.

In the boardinghouse, Cordelia heard Angel's phone blare out its typical ringtone from the other side of the couch. Beside her, Angel moaned, and reached out his hand of the phone with a speed that bordered on lethargic. Unwilling to allow him to answer it, she lunged, and grabbed the phone, landing over Angel's legs as she pressed on the talk button.

"Hello!" she sang, and heard Alaric's chuckle in return.

"Hey," he responded, and she twisted up to face the ceiling, using Angel's lower body as a pillow. He grunted, trying to move away, but Cordelia looked up at him and with a dark glare hissed,

"Don't you even dare."

"So," Alaric was saying, and she returned her attention to that conversation instead. "I was thinking… well…" he gave an embarrassed laugh, and then continued, "Do you think I could meet with your friends? I know it's a bit of an intrusion, but honestly I'm extremely curious. So… do you think I could maybe see you guys… tonight? Maybe? Would that possibly work?" he finished lamely.

"Um, I'll ask," Cordelia said, and then hung up before he could respond. She lifted her head, and pushed herself off the couch. "That was Alaric," she told Angel.

"I guessed as much," he told her drily.

She ignored him. "He seems funny, and not in the cute and amusing way. He wanted to meet you. And Gunn. And Wesley. And Drusilla. The whole gang, or so it was heavily implied. It seems a bit suspicious, actually."

"What did you say?" Angel asked.

"I didn't. I've heard about Gunn and Wesley's investigations into this town, which essentially concludes that something is amiss here. There is some definite proof of supernatural activity in Mystic Falls. For example: some wacky Civil War era fire, possible witch incidents, crazy and obviously vampiric maulings attributed to wild animals, and someone called Damon (who's probably Stefan's brother). Basically, I don't trust anything in this town, and with Alaric asking to meet you on top of this Stefan business-"

The snap of Angel's fingers cut her off midsentence, and she froze. "What?"

Angel's gaze was intense, and he stood up suddenly from the couch and faced her, his expression half nervous concentration and half eager realization. "That's it!" he said. He took a step back, and nodded to himself. "I knew that name sounded familiar," he muttered, "I just couldn't quite place it before…." He raised his voice as he went on, "When we fought him on the rooftop in Los Angeles, Stefan mentioned someone called Alaric. He said he was a vampire hunter. I didn't think of since… but this seems like too much of a coincidence." He took the discarded phone and handed it to Cordelia. "Say yes to the meeting," he told her, "Then go find Gunn and Wesley and get them up to date. They're in the Mystic Falls library. Upper floor. I'll search for Drusilla, it day, she can't have gone far. We're going to need her powers to find out more about this… Alaric."

With a short nod, face grim, Cordelia began to dial.

Hours later, after the sun had gone down and the sky was dark and the air cool, Alaric arrived at Mystic Fall's park, the one the Founding Families usually choose to host their numerous activities, festivals, and unofficial holidays. In fact, it was the same park where Tobias Fell had recently been slaughtered by the vengeful ghosts of the dead tomb vampires. Damon found this all very amusing as he watched from a safely concealed location an easy distance away. He fancied he could still smell the blood.

From beside him, Rebekah heaved a sigh. "This is boring," she complained, "Kill them all, and if that doesn't work, look for a new solution."

"I'd like that, too," Damon told her, trying to sound as friendly as possible, "But Alaric likes the girl."

"So what?"

"So… it would be a bit rude. For Alaric."

"I really couldn't care less," Rebekah responded coldly, and Damon feigned astonishment.

"Shocking," he said. "Now shh… they're here…." Indeed they were. Both vampires watched as five shapes moved through the night to stand around Alaric in a slightly sinister circle. It was dark, but the low light gave Damon's vampire eyes no trouble, and he was able to clearly see each new arrival. The first was an attractive woman with an apprehensive smile and a forced laugh. The girlfriend, Damon guessed, and most probably human. Her name was Cordelia, he discovered, as Alaric greeted her with a hug and the typical trite nonsense. The next three were all male, each one radiating confidence and strength. The first introduced himself as Wesley, the second as Gunn, and the third as Angel. The last member of the party approached Alaric, and eyed him warily before retreating a few steps. She was slight and pale, beautiful in a haunted sort of way.

From beside him, Rebekah sighed.

Damon watched, but didn't bother to listen as Alaric gestured to a picnic table, all anxious smiles and jerky movements, and then poured out a pitcher of some dark liquid (probably alcoholic) into several cups. After a lengthy pause, all of them each took a glass and swallowed, and Rebekah and Damon both watched intensely for any signs of pain or distress. There were none, and Alaric poise slipped further. He was trying to make small talk now, and bored, Damon tuned in.

"-didn't catch your name," he was saying to the dark girl with the darting eyes.

There was a lengthy pause.

"Drusilla."

Just as Damon's interest officially dissipated, Rebekah let out a gasp. He turned to her in exasperation, about to remind her to stay as silent as possible- but she was already looking at him, and she grabbed his throat before he could speak.

"Shut up," she warned, then motioned to the gathering, "I know that name," she growled, "Drusilla. She's the vampire."

Face turning red, Damon somehow managed to choke out, "She didn't react… to the vervain. Urk!" Rebekah released her grip on his throat, and he coughed, pulling himself away from her.

Rebekah wasn't even looking at him now, her attention was entirely focused on the girl, her body tense and eyes black with blood. She spared him a small explanation, regardless. "She's a different kind of vampire," was all she said. She took out the stake lying on the ground in front of them, and gave it to Damon. He gripped the wooden weapon, getting used to the feel of it in his hands, before he gave a brief nod of assent.

"Count of three, then?" she smiled.

They paused, and then burst from the bushes with blurring speed. He was fast, but Rebekah was faster, and she'd already knocked Drusilla back, twisting the girl's arms behind her back and holding her still for Damon to stake.

There was a second of stillness, and then everyone flew into motion. The girl in Rebekah's arms flailed around, screaming like a mad woman, her eyes yellow and face distorted. Alaric was yelling something to him, running at Damon, and Cordelia was screaming something towards Wesley, who prepared to leap forward….

Damon tackled him to the ground, and was gratified to see he instantly crumpled, out cold, as Damon's fist connected with his temple. Alaric was grappling with Gunn, and the other man, Angel, raced forward, coming to his friend's aid. He never reached him. Damon shot forward and pinned him to the table, holding him down as to his left Alaric grabbed a vervain dart from his pocket and jabbed the needle outwards. The man he was fighting was obviously human, but he still ducked out of the way of the needle, and Alaric used the distraction to knock him unconscious.

Damon momentarily released Angel, only to grab him again when he was in an upright position on the ground, holding him still the same way Rebekah was holding the thrashing dark-haired creature. Angel's strength was unheard of for a human, and Damon found himself actually straining to control him and keep him steady.

"Angel!" Cordelia shouted.

"Don't move!" Angel called back, "Cordelia! Don't move!"

Holding the struggling Angel, Damon noticed his stake had fallen to the ground during the fight. "Alaric!" he called, kicking the weapon over to the other man, who took the hint and scooped the stake from the ground, handling it expertly. "Stake the woman," he told him, "She's a vampire."

"Are you sure?" Alaric demanded.

"Look at her!" Damon shouted impatiently, and Alaric did so, and nearly cried out in horrified shock as he saw the woman's altered face.

"How?" Alaric breathed.

"Not our species!" Damon responded, and then urgently added, "Hurry!"

Angel snarled as he watched the hunter approach Drusilla, and his face itched to revert to its more primal self. He forced the urge away, knowing that maintaining his human guise would be the only thing that would save him, and everyone else. Except Drusilla.

The terror on her face as the blonde woman forced her to stay still was almost heartbreaking, because it made her look almost human, despite her golden eyes and demonic mask. He felt… responsible, and a part of him wanted to tear them all to shreds for daring to lay a hand on _his_ Drusilla. He had sired her, and the beast in him roared in his mind that none should ever touch her.

"I'm scared, Angel!" she sobbed, only looking at him now, as if begging him to somehow save her. "I'm scared. Don't let them hurt me, please!"

Her face was human again, and she was crying, her tears streaking down her lovely, panicked face, and he howled along with her as the hunter's arm drew back and then sailed forward. The vampire holding Angel released him at the moment the stake punched into Drusilla's chest, imbedding itself in her heart, and Angel darted forward towards the girl.

"Daddy?" she asked, and though her voice was soft and childlike, her eyes appeared almost lucid.

He reached a hand out to touch her cheek, to brush away her tears, but as his skin connected with hers, her flesh yielded and she crumbled into ash, leaving him holding only dust.

For a second, he thought he could still feel her presence, and then her voice was in his head, like an echo as she said with an almost surreal serenity _Esther says there are two stakes that can kill an Original. The white oak wood that once brought life can now deliver death. One is with Mikael… the other is buried in the cave…. _And then the voice vanished, and he found a profound sense of loss as he realized she was gone, really gone, because whatever she was, whatever she had done, he had still sired her, and it was his blood that had given her new life.

"I thought you were a vampire hunter!" he yelled at Alaric, who he saw was covered in dust. The man flinched.

"She _was_ a vampire!"

"What about them?" he asked, gesturing viciously towards the dark-haired man and the blonde woman.

"I-"

"I didn't think you'd be on Stefan's side," Angel said frostily.

The man gaped at him, and the other man, the one with black hair, was suddenly beside him.

"How do you know about Stefan?" the black-haired man asked dangerously.

"We're hunting him! He's a serial killer, and he's allied with Klaus!"

The blond woman's head snapped up, and the look she gave him was chilling. She moved forward and yanked him towards her. "Tell me how you've found out about Klaus!"

"Rebekah," the black-haired vampire said, and the name was familiar to Angel… he remembered Darla speaking of her, the Original who was Klaus' sister. "Chill. He's human. I'll fix this." And he loomed over Angel, his gaze locking onto the other vampire's eyes.

"No, Damon!" Rebekah snarled, an expression of pure malevolence marring her otherwise lovely features. Her voice was distorted by her fangs, but the note of hatred in her words was unmistakable. "He knows about my brother! I want him dead! I want his heart ripped out of his chest, and I want him to drown in his own blood! Kill him!"

"Cut it out, Rebekah," Damon replied smoothly, untouched by the Original's outburst. "If we leave him alive, we can find out what he was doing here. Wouldn't that be more helpful to your brother? When he comes back, he may want to… talk… to Angel and his friends."

The inhuman visage of Rebekah's face dissolved. "Fine," she said reluctantly, and then pouted. "But when Klaus comes… I'm going to kill them all, after my brother finds out everything he wants to know, that is."

Damon gave a casual shrug, and turned back to Angel. Blood blackened his eyes, and as he leaned forward, his fangs gleamed wetly in the moonlight. Like a cobra, he reared back and with a flash he had sunk his teeth into Angel's neck. The pain was sharp and immediate, but after a mere moment the excruciating sensation vanished. Damon stared at Angel, and his face was contorted in confusion, and his lips twisted into a wince, as if he had just tasted something unexpectedly bitter. "He's vervain free," Damon told Rebekah without looking at her, eyes still searching Angel's face.

It was true that Angel had skipped his morning dose of vervain-laced coffee, but it was also obvious to Angel that this new vampire was aware something was amiss. Clearly the dynamic between Rebekah and Damon was less than trusting, and Angel wondered whether Damon was even on her side. Alaric, he quickly judged, was likely only siding with Rebekah out of mutual convenience- the killing of another vampire- and would probably betray her given the chance, given the way he was cautiously inching away from her and towards Damon.

"So do it already! Or do you want to wait until tomorrow?"

"Don't rush me," Damon retorted, still eyeing Angel. Then, exhaling, he fixed his gaze onto Angel's. In a whisper, so low Angel could barely hear, even with his enhanced senses, he said, "_I hope you can fight this. Kinda sucks for all of us if my guess is wrong and you can't, huh?"_ Then his pupils dilated, and Angel felt like he was being sucked into that vast expanse of black and blue, and his muscles slackened as he distantly heard the vampire's voice resonate, "What do your friends know?" he asked.

It took every fiber of Angel's being to lie to the voice, and it hurt him to do it. The agony felt almost soul-deep, piercing at his humanity. "They know nothing," he ground out.

The voice was not yet finished. It continued in a musical purr, "You will forget about this encounter. You will not worry about Drusilla." His voice drowned everything else out, it was deep and soothing and demanded perfect obedience, and Angel badly wanted to give in, to surrender, to sink into the blissful tranquility that his voice seemed to promise. "You will stay here until I tell you that you can go." Then the blue was gone, and Angel blinked.

When his eyes refocused, nobody was there. There was a scattering of dust on the spot next to the picnic table, a few shattered glasses on the ground and an upturned pitcher that spilled dark liquid onto the grass. Next to the table the bodies of Wesley and Gunn lay graceless on the ground, but their chests rose and fell with a steady rhythm. Cordelia sat between them, waiting silently from them to reawaken.

For a second Angel was bewildered. But then he remembered. He remembered blue eyes, a wooden stake, Drusilla disintegrating like a dream in his arms, Rebekah ordering Damon to compel him, Damon murmuring treason even as the female Original looked on. He remembered everything, and he was glad that Wesley's guess had been right- his species was indeed immune to these other vampires' compulsion, though Angel felt winded and exhausted, as if he had just run a marathon. Perhaps, he reasoned, it was his soul; after all, his race was notoriously soulless, he was an unnaturally anomaly.

He walked towards Cordelia, and she looked up with a start as his shoe crunched against a shard of glass. She relaxed. "Do you remember?" she asked.

"Everything."

"Me too. The black-haired vampire tried to make me forget what had happened, but it didn't take. I suppose vervain really does work." Her finger brushed against her necklace, and Angel nodded.

"They killed Drusilla," Cordelia murmured, "She was our only link to Esther."

"Yes," Angel said, but refused to give in entirely to despair, "But she told me something before she died. There is a weapon that can destroy Klaus. A stake made from white oak."

"Did she tell you wear it is?"

"She said there was one with Mikael, and one in a cave."

"Maybe you can afford to go spelunking for the next five millennia, and search out every guy called Michael, but some of us are actually mortal."

Angel's lips twitched into a small smile, but his mood refused to improve.

"Are you okay, Angel?" Cordelia asked him.

"I don't know," he replied honestly, "I didn't want her to die, Cordy. She was evil… but…."

"She was family," Cordelia finished softly.

"In a way," Angel agreed quietly. "Also, I think Damon might be on our side. He knew I wasn't human, at least, he knew something wasn't right when he drank my blood, and he told me he wanted me to resist the compulsion. I think we could have him as an ally."

"And Alaric?" Cordelia asked.

"I'm not sure. He certainly doesn't like Rebekah, but that could just be because she's an Original." Angel sighed, and sat down next to her. "Time to work on a new plan."


	10. Chapter 10

_The foul creature was bucking against its restraints, a furious snarl ripped through its throat. It's face looked demonic, completely altered from the human disguise it had worn earlier. It had tried to plead with its captors at first, but then realized the deception would do it no good, and have reverted to its true self. _

_Mikael admitted it was strong. It had taken him a while to incapacitate it, and the battle had not left him uninjured. But the steel that bound the monster had been charmed by his wife, and he had nothing but faith in her powers. And he would have to have faith, for what was to come next._

_She entered the tent now, and her face was drawn and weary. Her hands were wrapped around a wooden bowl, the kind he had seen her do spells with before. He gathered her in his arms and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. _

_She relaxed in his embrace, but soon pulled back and examined the creature, dismay and anxiety in her eyes. She turned to her husband. "My love, what we are about to do…."_

_He cut her off, and said firmly. "Is noble and right. We will be ensuring that our children survive. What better gift can we as parents give them? This is good Esther, never doubt that."_

"_I know," she murmured, turning back to the monster, still screaming and thrashing in its chains. "But at what cost? Perhaps Ayanna was right. This is… unnatural. There will be consequences for our actions."_

"_Then we accept them!" Mikael growled, "And gladly!"_

"_I trust you, Mikael," Esther said, closing her eyes. "Take his blood, I shall do the rest." She handed him the bowl, and he accepted it._

_With a nod, Mikael went over to the vampire, drawing his sword from its sheath. Stopping in front of the monster, he raised his blade, swinging down and raking a long, thick line through the creatures neck. The creature gurgled, eyes wide in agony, and Mikael dropped his blade on the ground, quickly placing the bowl near the thing's neck, collecting the blood. When the bowl was nearly full, he turned back to Esther, and handed it to her._

_She took it silently, and then said. "I will use this along with the white oak tree. The blood will bind the life-giving powers of the tree to us. We will have immortality, but our souls will not vanish like that of this wretched creature."_

"_And we will be strong."_

"_Very. More so than the wolves, more so than this monster. I will prepare the spell. If you would kill the creature, and then please fetch the children."_

_Mikael nodded, and then picked up his sword again, approaching the monster. With a roar, he swung down, and separated the beasts head from its shoulders, and watched as it turned to dust. _

It was nighttime again. Always nighttime, endlessly, until eternity or death. Angel wasn't quite sure what he was doing outside the boardinghouse. He wasn't going _towards_ anything, and he sure as hell wasn't running _from_ anything. He only knew that if he had to spend one more minute inside the claustrophobic confines of the boardinghouse he was going to kill himself.

He was hardly stunned when he saw Stefan Salvatore amble down the road towards him, in fact, it was almost a welcome surprise. Pacing around Mystic Fall's at night at given him nothing else to focus on save for the increasingly enticing necks on the residents of the town, and it worried him to notice just how hungry he was getting. So when he spotted Stefan, it was a relief to have something other than blood to think about.

Unfortunately, it seemed as though Stefan had somehow read his mind, and had decided to torture him. In the younger Salvatore's hands lay an engorged bag of dark blood- fresh and straight from the hospital according to the label stuck on its side.

Angel wondered if this was a clever tactic on Stefan's part; unhinge his opponent, set him off balance. If that was the case, it was working. Angel's eyes tracked the blood bag even as Stefan continued to approach, and began to salivate, remembering the taste of Buffy's blood, and imagining what this blood would taste like, and if it would compare to the Slayer's.

Stefan stopped in front of him, and waited. "Hello, Angelus," he smiled.

The sound of his former name shattered Angel's daze, and he looked up with a deep glare. "Angel," he corrected.

"Of course. Hungry?" Stefan waved the blood bag around in the air, and then suddenly bit off the top, allowing the thick scent to whaft into the air. His face transformed, and Angel forced himself not to reach over and snatch the bag from Stefan's hands, to drink it down and enjoy every single drop of the ruby liquid. He succeeded, but only barely. With a look of mocking disdain, Stefan drank the blood himself, and made a show of slowly licking the rest off his lips. "Don't mind if I do," he said belatedly, showing off his reddened teeth in a feral grin. He tossed the bag onto the sidewalk, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "You still remember, huh?" he asked.

"Damon told you," Angel guessed.

"We share a common goal," Stefan said leisurely, and his smile was gentler, though still gruesome.

"Which is?" Angel asked.

"Killing Klaus," Stefan said simply.

Momentarily taken aback, Angel couldn't help but gape. "Really?" he finally asked, "I thought you were on Klaus' side."

"Oh, I am," Stefan said, "The thing is- I don't _want_ to be. You see, Angelus, Klaus compelled me to follow his orders to the letter, and until he's dead, I'm stuck doing exactly that. I want him gone, just like Damon does, and just like Rebekah does now."

"I remember Rebekah," Angel said, shifting his voice to a menacing purr, the one he knew Angelus preferred. "Specifically, I remember her and Alaric killing Drusilla."

"Don't pout, Angelus. She's dead, so what?"

Angel merely laughed, still playing Angelus. It was the only way to intimidate the other vampire, by pretending to be even more sadistic and dangerous than the ripper was. He couldn't tell if it was working, Stefan still appeared unfazed and even bored, with no hint of emotion in his blank gaze. "Oh, nothing at all. It's just…" Angel stepped towards Stefan, deliberately invading his personal space. He dropped his voice an octave as he continued, "Drusilla managed to tell me one thing before she died. Klaus can't be killed, except with a certain type of stake."

"White oak," Stefan said. "We know."

"Then you know that there are only two of these stakes out in existence."

"And one belongs to Mikael," Stefan completed in a drawl.

Angel stepped back. "You found Mikael."

"Klaus' stepfather. Long story. You wouldn't be interested. But to condense it: Mikael is going to kill Klaus. That's it."

"Then what do you want me for?" Angel asked.

Stefan's lips curved into an unsettling smile, and his cold eyes sparkled with cruel amusement. "Not you, per say, Angel, although we would appreciate your assistance in this endeavor. No, actually Angel, I'd like you to pass along a little offer to your friends."

"Which is?"

Stefan paused, and silently observed Angel with a look of pleased calculation before he eventually replied. "You're already undead, Angelus. But you're friends…. We need backup on this mission, and as humans they aren't very useful. But as _my_ type of vampires… they would be invaluable."

"No," Angel snarled, "Don't even think about it. I will tear you apart before you touch them."

Stefan appeared genuinely confused. "Don't you want them to be strong? Couldn't you at least allow them to choose for themselves?"

"They won't say yes. They value their souls."

"Souls?" Stefan smirked. "Oh, I forgot. You know, Rebekah said you're species had no soul, but I thought she was being… poetic. Figurative." He tilted his head, and smiled again. "We have souls, Angelus. Unlike you, we stay _us_ when we become vampires."

"You want me to believe you have a soul?" Angel asked flatly. "You, the man who slaughtered his way through continental America-"

"Primarily the east coast."

"- and appear to have zero empathy?"

Stefan heaved a sigh. "We can turn off our emotions, Angelus. Flip the switch. No guilt, no pain, no anger, no fear, _no remorse_. So, I do have no empathy now- but you can thank Klaus for that. He compelled me to flip the switch."

Angel frowned. "So when you were killing, you didn't have any emotions? He forced you to turn them off?"

Something flashed through Stefan's eyes, something that bore a passing resemblance to an actual emotion, one that almost looked like guilt. "I- no. He- hadn't made me. I did those-"

"On your own!" Angel interrupted, disgusted. "You had a soul, and you tore those girls to bits!"

"It's my nature! I can't control my thirst, not in the way other vampires can!"

Angel gave a derisive laugh. "And these other vampires, like your brother? I've seen his work. He kills too. I think you all like it- I think you relish the hunt, the blood, the screams. You may have souls, but they're rotted to the core."

On the defensive now, Stefan lashed out in a growl, "And you, Angelus? You act all high and mighty, but you weren't always so damn virtuous. Katherine told me about you, and I bet you've lost track of all the skeletons in your closet. You mean to say that you've never hurt an innocent- ripped into someone's neck and drained them dry, tasting their fear and screams and laughing as you feel them die?"

Angel waited for the vampire to finish, and then quietly said. "I haven't forgotten. I remember their faces, the way I held them as they died. I've killed, and murdered and left trails of bodies scattered in my wake. But now that I have my soul, I don't kill anymore. Not like your vampires do."

A muscle in Stefan's jaw worked, and in a tight, cold voice, the vampire said, "Give them my offer. And quickly, we kill Klaus tomorrow." Then he vanished.


	11. Chapter 11

_Ayanna handed Esther the stake, and Esther took it, twisting the white weapon around, examining it._

"_This is…." At a loss for words, Esther stared accusingly at her friend._

"_A necessity," Ayanna said evenly. "These monsters you have made…"_

"_My family, Ayanna. They are not monsters."_

"_They are abominations made from abominations," Ayanna said simply, taking the weapon back, "But it is done. You have seen to it that they cannot be killed."_

"_Except from the tree that created them," Esther said, "The tree they plan of burning down at sunset."_

"_That was to be expected," Ayanna told Esther, "If one can destroy a weakness, they will do so. But this is unnatural, Esther. Balance is needed. Always."_

"_And this is your balance?" Esther asked, knocking the stake out of Ayanna's hands. She blinked, and a tear travelled down her cheek. "Please, Ayanna. These are my children. My husband."_

_Ayanna calmly retrieved the weapon and locked eyes with Esther. "And they may become the enemy. I know you do not like it, Esther, and I do not blame you. But do not forget what you are. You are a witch, a servant of nature, and it is your duty to make sure balance is kept." She turned to leave._

"_What- what will you do with that?" Esther asked, calling after the other witch._

"_See to it that it is kept safe," Ayanna said vaguely, "What you have made is the beginning of a plague. These unnatural beasts shall stain the ground with blood. I will not allow your emotion to stop me. I will do my duty if you will not." _

"-and it begins tonight," Angel finished. The rest of his team stared wordlessly at him, as they had the entire time he had spent relaying the gist of his conversation with the Ripper. The silence grew abruptly tense, and then just as quickly dissipated as Cordelia heaved a sigh, mumbling something about the end of the world and too many times to count.

Angel paused, and then continued, examining the orange-and-red, stunning sunset peeking through the thick curtains, and then checked his watch. "Damon called and filled me in on some of the details. The father of the Original family- Mikael- has one of the stakes that can permanently kill Klaus. Although Stefan is under Klaus' compulsion, they managed to exploit some of its loopholes and lure Klaus back to Mystic Falls. Damon has the stake, and he's not shy about using it."

"And Rebekah?" Gunn asked. "She seems like a dangerously loose end in this equation."

Rebekah's name stung him, and Angel forced himself under control, breathing in and letting a grim neutrality smooth away all traces of rebel emotion. "Dead. Elena killed her. Apparently, she can resuscitate, but that's only if they pull out the dagger, which they won't. So for the time being, consider her gone."

"Who's Elena?" Wesley asked.

"Stefan's ex. I don't know anything else about her." Angel glanced down at his watch again, and then the sky outside the window, which was quickly darkening to a deep violet. "We leave for the Salvatore's mansion in a few minutes."

The uncomfortable part was almost over, the waiting was nearly done. They had done this many times before, and the worst part, they had discovered, was the anticipation, the premature, useless fear that sapped their strength, drained their will, and contributed nothing to the battle ahead. But the fight was tonight, and if everything went according to plan, they could find themselves safely in Los Angeles by next morning, a hybrid dead and another catastrophe averted. The silence reigned only a second longer as they realized this, and collectively broke into nervous giggles and muted conversations.

"Hey," Gunn said loudly, motioning to Angel with a grin, "Did that vamp seriously think we'd take up his offer?" He made a silly face, stretching his lips and twisting his hands into claws, "Become vampified? Really?"

Wesley and Cordelia snickered, and they collapsed into a round of laughter.

"I do happen to like my soul," Wesley said, tapping his chest, "In my body, thank you." He shared a smile with Cordelia.

Angel shrugged. "He claimed they had souls, oddly enough."

"He lied?" Wesley asked curiously, suddenly somber. "To trick us, perhaps?"

Shaking his head, Angel said, "No, I think he was telling the truth, as strange as it sounds." With a frown he mused, "Maybe their souls are somehow different- warped?"

"As if we'd risk that," Gunn scoffed, "No way." He and Wesley began to take turns mocking the vampires, and Angel resisted the urge to smile at their antics. This was how it always was, and soon everything would revert to how it should be once again. This was normal.

But as soon as the thought passed his mind, something shifted. Something that rendered the entire situation decidedly abnormal, painting it in dark, ominous tones. A cold breeze in the air, a ruffling against his skin. A sickly warmth, alerting him to the change before it occurred. And then, Cordelia screamed.

It was a scream he had heard before, a sudden, high-pitched cry of sheer terror combined with agonized pain. It was a primal scream, one that tore into the air, and Angel jumped forward, catching Cordelia in his arms before she crumpled to the ground.

"What do you see?" he urged her, and her eyes rolled back, exposing the whites as she gasped her breath, her screams transforming into soft moans.

Her mouth opened, and the single word that emerged from her lips chilled him to the bone. "Blood."

He didn't try to comfort her yet, he needed information at this crucial stage. "Please, Cordelia, tell me more. What else?"

Her eyes focused on him before she cried out again, trembling. "Klaus dies," she murmured, and even though this was the desired outcome, Angel felt no relief. On the contrary, the words filled him with a sort of despair, as he realized this new development could destroy every plan, every plot they had worked on. In this moment, he thought he could see a whole future disintegrating before his eyes.

Cordelia wasn't finished. "And so his hybrids kill everyone at the party."

"Party?" Angel asked, "The homecoming?"

"I can't… it's too quick. They slaughter everyone! I'm there! The screams… the blood… so much blood." With a gasp, her eyes refocused, and she pulled herself up and straightened. "I'm fine," she said before anyone could ask. "It's over."

Angel rose as well. "Does Klaus' death cause this?" he asked, already expecting the affirmative answer before Cordelia confirmed his suspicions with a nod. "Can we kill him, and then the hybrids?" he asked. "Is that… possible?"

This time Cordelia shook her head, a grave sadness scratched into the new lines of her face. "No. I've seen them in action, Angel. They're… not unstoppable I suppose, but there are so many of them, and they each carry out their mission without mercy or hesitation. They're just as fast and strong as the Mystic Fall's vampires, and some of them… turn into wolves and rip out throats with their teeth… shredding skin… moving from one victim to the next…." She broke off; eyes wet, and then continued harshly, "We have no choice, Angel. We have to save Klaus."

"There has to be another way," Wesley said desperately, taking a step forward. His tone was almost pleading, as he turned to Angel, "We can't let Klaus live."

"You don't understand!" Cordelia shouted, a feral craze glowing in her eyes. She lowered her voice, and said darkly, enunciating each word. "We. Have. To. Let. Klaus. Survive!" Wesley stepped back.

"There's no choice," Angel said unenthusiastically, but firmly, "We have to stop the plan." As if on cue, his phone suddenly began to ring, and he punched the talk button, raising it to his ear. He listened for a few minutes, and then lowered it, ending the call. He grabbed his keys from his pocket and ran for the door, ripping it open and sprinting down the boardinghouse hallways, the rest of the team in tow. He ran outside without thinking, and allowed himself only a moment of pleasure that the sky was dark enough not to burn him as he went inside his car, starting the ignition.

"Hurry!" he called.

The millisecond after they were in and the doors were shut he slammed his foot down on the accelerator, and blasted his way out of the parking lot, speeding his way through the town.

Hastily buckling up, Cordelia managed to shout over the roar of air coming from the half-opened windows, "What the hell are you doing?"

He didn't answer immediately, instead asking Wesley, "Which way to the Lockwood Mansion?"

Perplexed though he was as Angel's seemingly mad behavior, Wesley was able to give the basic directions, the hours he had spent studying the town paying off. "Take a right at the next light, then two lefts! It's the largest house; you'll see it from there."

Nodding, Angel raced through the yellow light and suddenly swerved right, swinging the car around nearly 90 degrees. "Damon called," he explained as he made a rough left, "The plan's changed. Klaus is throwing a party at the Lockwood Mansion, and they're going to try and kill him there. This left?"

"Um, yes." The car jerked around again, and Wesley grunted as he crashed into Gunn. He then closed his eyes and for the remainder of the journey, purposefully blocking out the dizzying wash of colors speeding by the window, the jolting motions of the car as it rocketed over speed bumps, and the distant noise that sounded suspiciously like horrified screams. When the car finally came to a stop, he steadied himself, and then gave himself permission to open his eyes, reassuring himself that surely the rest of night was going to be a piece of cake compared to the hellish and illegal ride through the town.

The building that loomed above them was indeed the Lockwood estate, and it was brightly lit, illuminated with a string of lanterns and decorative lights. Angel's car was only one of many, and parked around it were many more fancy, sleek vehicles. There were some partygoers emerging from the cars, but most of the people seemed to have already arrived, and a swarm of teenagers in fancy clothes could be seen from every vantage point. Angel was already outside, and the rest of the team followed suit, exiting the car to stare at the mansion. The sound of music could be faintly heard, as well as the delighted screams of the teens inside the house.

"It looks familiar." Was all Cordelia said before walking forward towards the entrance.

Outside, the lawn was a maze, packed to the brim with drunk and laughing partygoers.

"And how exactly are we supposed to find them to call it off?" Gunn asked, eying the mass of people skeptically.

"We split up," Angel decided, "Wesley, you go straight. Gunn and Cordelia, you two break off and go left and right, respectively. I'll… go somewhere else."

"Backwards?" Gunn asked sarcastically, before he too dissolved into the crowd.

"Maybe," Angel muttered, searching the throng in rapidly growing dismay. With a resigned sigh, he took off, maneuvering his way through the mass of dancing and shouting teenagers, slipping around a group of nearly unconscious girls.

Each minute that passed made his chest tight with fear, and his pace increased, from a brisk walk to something close to a jog. He stopped suddenly, surveying the crowd again, and noticed a dark-haired girl emerge from the house, a furtive look on her face. Her _familiar_ face.

"Katherine." The name escaped him, and its sound still managed to thrill him. He ran through the crowd, and barreled into her, grabbing her arm in his hands.

She growled, spinning away from him, and then her eyes found his face, assessing it with her trademark calculation, and her eyes seemed to shine in amazement, jaw dropping only the tiniest of a degree before she regained her typical control. "Angelus?" she gasped, and she ran forward, seizing his face in her hands and kissing him fiercely, passionately. He responded just as hungrily as her, before he pulled himself away.

She laughed, though there was an look of weariness in her eyes, an expression that seemed so foreign on her face. "Stefan said you were here," she breathed, pushing herself into his arms and kissing his chest, his neck. "But…." She shook herself. "How long has it been, Angelus?" she asked between kisses, moving her lips to his jaw, "A hundred years? Two hundred? Much to long…."

Angel released the grip he hadn't even known he had on her, and she disengaged from him, a slight frown on creasing her brow. "What is it?" she demanded, an edge of irritation hardening her voice.

"So you are working with them, then?" he asked her, lowering his voice to a gentle breath, whispering into Katherine's ear, "To kill Klaus?"

"Yes," she responded, and it amazed him how she could make that single word seem so seductive, coupling it with a enigmatic smile that hinted at perilous secrets and heady delights.

He wanted to bask in the heat of her attention, the glow of her smile for a second longer… just a second… but he forced himself to focus on the mission, reminding himself of Cornelia's words. "You can't kill Klaus," he told her, and her smile vanished. The loss of it ached, but Angel went on, "There's a girl I know… Cordelia. She can see the future. If you kill Klaus, he will have his hybrids massacre every single person- and vampire- here."

Katherine was shaking her head in denial. "No… he told me… but he was bluffing. He had to be. There are only a few hybrids, and they're young. We can kill them. Or Mikael can."

"Then there must be more. Or Mikael will merely abandon you. Likely both."

Her face hardened. "He wouldn't," she snarled, and it wasn't a statement of fact, it was an outraged growl of anger. She blinked. "A hybrid's bite can kill a vampire," she murmured, almost to herself. Her eyes flicked to the door. "And I always look out for myself. Time to move on to Plan B."

Angel felt a rush of pride. There was the Katherine he had known- ever pragmatic, always with a contingency plan. "You do have a plan."

"Hm." She smiled. "Wait and see." Katherine flashed him a teasing grin, and said, half fake innocence and half overt taunt, "And Angelus… that soul of yours… I hope it doesn't spoil all your fun." With another suggestive smile, she blew him a kiss, and then in a dark blur she was gone.

Angel looked longingly after her, and then turned and continued to sift through the crowd. Finally finding Wesley, he asked, "Found anyone?"

"No. Have you."

"Yeah. Katherine."

"Katherine?" Wesley exclaimed, "You mean-"

"No time," Angel interrupted, "She has a plan."

"Are you sure?"

Angel smiled fondly. "She always has a plan."

"And… what is the plan, exactly?"

"She… didn't tell me."

"And you trust her," Wesley stated in obvious displeasure, folding his arms across his chest. "That seems awfully naïve of you, Angel."

Angel didn't respond instantaneously. He relaxed, and gave a slight smile. "If you knew her like I do Wesley… it's not that I trust her, it's that I trust she'll help herself, no matter what."

"Well I _don't_ know her like you do, Angel, so if it's all the same to you, I'd still like to find Damon, and preferably Gunn and Cordelia as well."

"Cordelia here," a feminine voice jumped in, "Reporting for duty." Breaking away from the crowd, Cordelia grinned at them. "I haven't found Gunn, but I think I saw him inside the house."

As they made their way through the complicated labyrinth that was the mansion, Angel felt his mood lighten with an emotion that bordered on… happiness. He wasn't sure if it was Katherine's unexpected but surprisingly welcome presence, or the fact that tonight might not end in carnage, but he felt almost cheerful. However, that emotion did not seem to be reciprocated in his companions.

They found Gunn shortly after, and were about to go back, for these hallways were utterly empty and eerily devoid of any current inhabitants when the sound of two separate screams startled them. One was masculine howl of pain and rage… and the other was all female, a short outcry of pain. He recognized its source in horror. Katherine. He ran forward and came to a stop just before the opening of the hallway, as he saw Damon leap out and plunge the white oak stake into Klaus' back.

A strangled moan escaped Wesley's lips, and Cordelia gasped for breath, pulling on Angel's sleeve, but the battle was not yet over. The stake had embedded itself in Klaus' stomach instead of the heart, and the injury was not lethal. Just as Damon pulled out the weapon, a new figure crashed into him, pinning him to the floor. In a blur of motion, Klaus leapt up, stake in hand, and darted forward, thrusting the weapon into Mikael's heart instead.

The other Original bellowed as he fell to the ground, where Angel could no longer see him. A plume of fire emerged from where Angel assumed Mikael's body was, and Klaus stepped back, and the expression of tired satisfaction made him appear almost human. The other vampire on the floor had risen, and Angel found his face. Stefan Salvatore. Of course.

He didn't know whether to gleefully cheer, or to lament the loss of opportunity to end Klaus' life. He settled on doing nothing as he, and his companions backed out of the room, and towards the lawn. Katherine's plan had indeed seen its way to fruition, and Angel briefly wondered if the lives they had just saved would outnumber the lives Klaus would soon take himself. Of course not.

There were no congratulations given at the boardinghouse. They had failed through their success, and regret was the strongest emotion in the room.

There was silence through the night, and in the morning, each of the team left the boardinghouse without a word.

Confined by the daylight, Angel had no choice but to stay. However, he didn't remain alone. Katherine entered the room, and for the first time Angel saw that her lapis lazuli necklace was the same as Stefan's.

"I didn't think you'd die," Angel told her.

She smiled at him, sitting beside him. "Always have a plan," she teased. She pushed herself over him, straddling him, and bent down as if to kiss him. Instead, her face a mere inch from his, she said, "I came here to warn you, Angelus. Things are going to get a lot worse."

"Because Klaus is still alive?" he guessed.

She shook her head. "Because Stefan's made him _angry_. So prepare yourself, Angelus, because if Klaus gets his way, he'll have the entire town in the ground." She tilted her head. "That rhymes."

"I assume this is part of your plan."

"Of course," she purred and leaned down further, her lips brushing softly against his, and hot pleasure raced from the point of contact to the rest of his body.

"Then let me tell you something else, Katherine."

Interest sparkled in her eyes.

"There's another stake," Angel murmured against her lips.

"Really?" Katherine asked, smiling. "Fascinating."


	12. Chapter 12

A.N. Time to diverge from cannon! Not so dramatically in this chapter, but I'm not planning on keeping this stories plot like the TV shows, largely because that's just unrealistic. Comments are nice! XD

_Ayanna knew Esther would see this as an act of betrayal. Ayanna did not, and her feelings toward her friend remained unchanged. She was not doing this to spite Esther, she was serving nature, ensuring balance, and helping the greater good. _

_There was no trace of guilt in her mind as she buried the stake in the ground at the base of the cave wall, nothing but grim satisfaction and the desire that someday, someone would discover it. _

After he'd told her about the location of the second stake, Katherine's eyes had gleamed with that familiar avarice, and she had leaned back, her mouth forming the word _cave _soundlessly as she had closed her dark eyes in consideration. She had smiled that same sly smile that Angel had become so well acquainted with, and persuaded him to come with her to the Salvatore Mansion, for a little chat with Damon.

He had initially resisted, and although his past with Katherine had taught him that she always emerged victorious, he had protested against leaving, asking to at least call his friends. As he suspected, she had been adamant they go alone, and with a shrug and a slight scowl he finally relented, and her delighted grin was more than enough compensation.

"Why is it you want me to come alone?" he now asked her.

"Don't be a bad sport, Angelus," she cooed, standing on her tiptoes to press her lips against his ear. Her cool breath tickling against his skin, she went on in a playful murmur, "Maybe I just want you all to myself."

He shrugged for the second time. "If only your motives were so simple."

"Maybe they are," she said thoughtfully, "Maybe I'm just pretending they're more complicated."

"You win, Katherine," he told her, and then examined her, "Except you forgot one little detail."

"Doubtfully."

It was Angel's turn to smile. "You forgot… I can't walk in the sun! Not like you can, anyway."

Her smile was conspiratorial. "I haven't forgotten." Eyes locked on his, Katherine reached for the lapis lazuli necklace that was nestled between her breasts. She ran her thumb against its surface, continuing to look only at him. "I bet you've figured out what this is, huh?"

Angel nodded, "Stefan had one," he said, "what does it protect you from? Only the sunlight?"

"Sadly," Katherine confirmed, and then removed her necklace, letting the silver chain spill into her palm. "Touch it," she demanded, and after a pause Angel did so. She smiled in satisfaction. "Not an ideal solution, I suppose, but as long as you keep flesh contact with this, you'll be protected."

Angel's hand curled around hers, his fingers cocooning the jewel and keeping Katherine's hand pressed safely against it.

As they walked out of the boardinghouse, Angel couldn't help but fear the deadly light that he had learned to avoid by pain of death for centuries. Despite recently coming into possession (and then destroying) the Gem of Amara, which had similar properties, it was not an easy fear to shake. But with an almost gentle reassurance, Katherine guided him through the thick wooden doors, and out into the radiant day.

He shivered instinctively as the warm sunlight poured over him, but Katherine had been right, he was protected, and as he turned to her, he realized he had never seen her in the sunlight before. Her cheeks were pink and her hair awash in light, a golden aura around her dark locks. Her eyes shone in the daylight, silently laughing at him as her mouth quirked into an amused smile.

In her car, doors shut and engine beginning to hum, Angel released her hand. She looped the chain around her wrist like a bracelet, and started to drive out of the parking lot.

"How's Stefan?" he asked her. "You said he had made Klaus angry. But- he saved Klaus' life."

"At my request," Katherine responded airily, "And then my darling secret weapon stole his coffins."

"Coffins." Angel repeated, glancing at Katherine in confusion.

She frowned. "You don't know?" Without waiting for an answer she explained, "Klaus had neutralized his fellow siblings. But for some strange reason he keep their bodies close, carrying them around in coffins. I'm sure a psychologist would have a field day."

"And Stefan… stole them?"

"Didn't I just say that?" Katherine asked impatiently, "Yes. It was part of my new plan; however, I think yours is much better. I had no idea there was a second stake, Mikael's was supposed to be the only one of its kind. Do you know who made it?"

"No." _Drusilla might have_, he thought to himself, but since she was dead there was really no use in realizing this. "Will Stefan be part of this plan?" he asked her.

Katherine pulled into the Salvatore's driveway, and parked the car. She turned to him. "No," she finally said, "I can't predict what he'll do at this stage. He's an unstable element, and frankly I don't trust him."

"But you trust Damon."

"Damon…" Katherine trailed off. "Damon and I share a common interest. And he cares too much for the sweet little humans in this adorable town to leave Klaus alive given another opportunity to kill him." She rolled her eyes.

"And you do know where the stake is."

"I have a decent guess." Without another word, she allowed the chain to slide off her wrist, and cupped the gem in her hand. She stretched her arm towards Angel, and as before, he retook her hand.

The inside of the mansion was a mess, and smelled strongly of alcohol. Reclining on a couch, bleary eyed and hung-over, Damon Salvatore scowled wearily at the two vampires at his door. "You can come in," he said, "Elena's _dead_, or used to be, and now it's no access denied for vamps." Katherine pulled Angel inside, and once in, slammed the door shut.

"New plan, Damon."

He blinked at her, his expression incredulousness. "A new plan? Like the last one turned out so well." Sarcasm dripped from his voice.

Katherine sat beside him, and touched his hair. He flinched away, glaring venomously at her.

"Stefan ruined everything!" he shouted, suddenly bolting from his seat. "_Everything!_ We had Klaus! We were going to kill him! He betrayed us… for Klaus!"

Katherine merely looked at him. Her face was grave and she appeared strangely vulnerable, something Angel was unused to. "Damon," she began hesitantly, "Stefan didn't betray you. He saved you."

"Saved me," Damon scoffed.

Katherine nodded, "He loves you," she told him softly, "If Klaus had died, his hybrids would have massacred everyone at the party, including you. This was his way of protecting you."

Judging by the look on Damon's stunned face, Angel could see the other vampire was hardly pleased, but as the astonishment melted away, replaced by a drained understanding, Angel could also tell Katherine had given him a lot to consider.

"So there's a new plan?" he asked tiredly.

"A new stake," Katherine responded. "Apparently Mikael's wasn't the only one. There's another, buried in a cave, probably the same cave you found the drawings in."

"You found out about that, then," Damon stated.

"Of course," Katherine purred, pushing herself up from the couch. "That friend of yours- the human-"

"Alaric?"

"Right. Can he do us a little favor?"


	13. Chapter 13

_Ayanna fluttered between the spirit realm and the world of the still-living, her pulse that of the cosmos, her body soul manifested. She breathed with the world, except her air was the magic that infused all of the universe's kingdoms, and her heart and lungs were the faint echoes of the power that had remained even after her demise. _

_But though she was the merest shadow of her living self, her ability was still enough to transverse the veil that separated the spirits from the corporeal flesh-and-bloods. She floated amidst the currents of eternity, and watched silently on a tranquil river of steady life-power as the world shifted and morphed upon itself, and the magic ebbed and flowed, matter changing shape a million times over, but still remaining constant. And Ayanna managed to navigate the stream, finding her own center of gravity, holding onto herself with the virtue of her desire, a desire that could be neatly boiled down to a single word, representative of everything she now craved._

_Annihilation. _

_Esther had birthed these monsters of hers, and Ayanna had watched in dismay as they carved their own bloody place in humanity, a hungering parasite bloated with abnormal power and unnatural lusts. Ayanna watched them for centuries, and came to the decision that to purge Esther's mistake from history, she would have to eliminate the source of the plague. The Original family. The Originals were the cause. The Originals were the near-immortal members of their deadly race. And Klaus was the worst of them all. A true abomination, beyond anything ever intended. _

_And so Ayanna decided she would serve nature in death as she had in life._

_She watched, and waited._

_And waited. _

_She did not grow impatient. Time ebbed and flowed for her just as the magic and threads of life did, and Ayanna was perfectly content to relax in the nature of all things even as she prepared to end Klaus' existence. Perhaps then, she mused, she could discover her own peace, her own serenity._

_And then she found her. _

_She was Katerina-would-be-Katherine, and she was daughter-sister-lover-mother, a former human now vampire. Her family had been slaughtered, and she was filled with love (transformed into hate) and hate (molded from and made strong by love). She was beautiful (lovely in her grief as well as joy), and Ayanna could fell the anguish in her heart as ripples of her sadness hissed through the vast symphony of all things, a keening song of despair intertwining and mixing with the music of the world, and her salty tears hummed through the fabrics of the realms. _

_But this did not qualify her as particularly unique or noteworthy. She was not the only mourner. Not the only one whose family had been brutally massacred. Her tears were only a tiny part of the vast lake of sorrow, her howls of pain an indistinguishable part of the chorus of agony. What brought Ayanna's attention was the way her family had died…_

_Or rather…_

_Who had dealt the killing blows._

_The answer was clear, for it too was etched into the fluid river of history-past-present-possible-futures, and Ayanna felt the name appear barely before she had time to contemplate the question._

_Klaus._

_And she smiled softly (wondering- did she even have a mouth to smile with?) and smiled wider as she realized the rest of the story, that crucial piece that she had missed as she had been forced to shift between realms, the magic and ever-changing flow (and her own lacking power) pulling her from this mortal plane and limiting her influence._

_Katerina-soon-to-be-Katherine, mother-sister-daughter-lover, was also doppelganger-key-curse-breaker, but she had hung herself (shamefully surrendering her soul to the unnatural state of vampirism) upon realizing Klaus' plans for her, and Klaus had been thwarted. In his rage, he had destroyed her family, and in doing so, ensured her own rage would last forever. Ayanna could think of no better candidate to help her deliver the white oak stake into Klaus' monstrous heart, and she smiled again._

_She touched the mind of the weeping girl, and managed to breathe a gentle word of comfort, and whisper to her the promise of an awful death for the man that had done this. The girl's sobs eased, and she quietly asked for Ayanna's name. Ayanna told her._

_However, this exertion had not been without cost, and Ayanna was thrown from the mortal plane to the spirit world again as she waited yet again for an opportunity. _

"Is this what you're looking for?" Alaric asked sourly, tossing the stake to Damon.

Before the other vampire could pocket it, Angel snatched it out of his hands. He shrugged at the mock-venomous expression on Damon's face. _Sorry_ he mouthed. Beside him, laying back on the sofa, eyes half-closed and head tilted upwards, Katherine gave a short giggle.

Alaric glared at all of them. He stank of sweat, and his torn and muddied clothes were drenched in it. Dust had settled in his hair and dirt was wedged between his fingernails. All in all, he looked (and smelled) like he desperately needed a shower. Damon seemed to share that sentiment, for he made a show of sniffing warily, then quickly backing up a few paces.

"You smell horrible," Damon told the other man blandly, and Alaric rolled his eyes.

"Thank yourself for that. _Both_ of you," he added, turning to Angel. "You seem like the good little vampire, but Stefan had that whole innocent vibe going for him, and it turned out he's just as vicious and dangerous as the next bloodsucker."

Damon smirked, raising his hand in the air. They both turned to him wearily. Intentionally oblivious, Damon said, "Maybe Stefan could run against Klaus in the evil-villain club. They could put up posters, hand out little buttons…."

"Thanks, Alaric," Angel interrupted quickly, facing the other man and giving him a genuine, if small, smile. "I know it took some time to find."

Alaric let out a bitter laugh. "No kidding. I practically dug up the entire cave looking for this. I still can't believe it was actually there. Crazy."

"Hm," Angel grunted in agreement.

"Now we have another shot at taking down Klaus," Katherine murmured, "_And_ Mikael's already been killed. Ideally that would leave the two most dangerous originals dead and the rest neutralized. Once Klaus is dust, we can think about giving each coffin its own extended vacation. I'm thinking… the Arctic for Elijah, and the coast of Florida for the cute blonde girl napping downstairs."

"Hawaii for the girl," Damon countered, "Florida for the others."

"Where are the coffins, anyway?" Angel found himself asking. He looked at Katherine, "You said they were part of your plan-"

"Stefan's plan," she corrected, "Which just so happened to work out nicely for _me_. But he got a little testy when I started asking questions. He has the coffins. I don't know where. I don't really care, either. When Klaus is removed, Stefan will have no reason to keep hauling them around."

Damon shrugged. "Hope you're right," he drawled, "'Cause Stefan seems pretty _terribly _upset…." He trailed off, grinning.

"All the more reason for us to move quickly," Katherine said briskly, rising from the sofa and dusting off her jeans. She gave a sly smile and reached for the stake. "If you will, Angel."

He didn't move, and tried to fight back the rebellious desire to hand it over, if only to be rewarded with a smile. Instead he said, "I think I'm going to keep it. You three are the first people Klaus will come for if he thinks anything is up."

Katherine and Damon both pouted. Alaric looked thoughtful. "That seems fair enough," he reasoned, "Or good enough for me, at any rate." He tried to scrape off some of the mud of his shirt, and failed. With a sigh, he headed for the door. "I'm going home. Call me if you start the serious scheming, or need my assistance in any way." The last bit was infused with a strong dose of sarcasm.

"Duly noted," Damon deadpanned, waving him away. Once the door was shut, he turned back to Katherine. "_Are _we plotting anything today?" he asked.

"No," Katherine said. She looked at Angel, resting a hand on his shoulder, fingers splaying across his back. They dug with a cool pressure into his shoulder blade, and then travelled up to his neck, marking a hot path down his spine. He choked back a sigh of pleasure.

"Klaus doesn't know my friends," he said slowly, "I can get them to spy on him and his hybrids. See if they can detect a pattern to his behavior. A schedule. Once we know his movements, it'll be easier to strike."

"Works for me," Damon yawned. "Anything else?"

"No," Angel said, and then glanced at the sky. It wasn't precisely night, but it was dark enough not to burn him. "I'll call you," he told them, and with a lingering look at Katherine, he departed, to tell the members of his team the details of his new plan, and show them the white oak stake as proof of its potential for success.

Katherine watched him leave, then turned to Damon. "I'm going to stay," she decided.

"No you aren't," Damon said simply.

"Of course I am," she returned, and though her tone was playful, it left no room for argument.

"Huh."

She grinned in triumph, and then bounced up the stairs. She turned midway up. "You wanna share?" she asked, half humor and half sultry purr.

"_Nope_," Damon sang, picking up a newspaper from the floor and pretending to read it. With a dramatic sigh and a laugh, Katherine flounced off, and he promptly tossed it to the ground.

But her sleep was plagued with nightmares, intermingled with strange images of familiar sensations.

Half-dreaming and half-hallucinating, she thought a dark-skinned woman with eyes of hardened lava came to her, and her gentle touch stirred memories of death and love and a family bleeding and mangled on the ground. Her eyes softened, warmth rather than searing heat, and the woman murmured soft reassurances.

"_I know you_," Katherine said deliriously, taking the woman's hands and desperately trying to force up memories of long ago. Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked rapidly, letting them flow down her face. _"You promised me Klaus would die."_ The dreamscape blurred, and the two of them were now conversing inside the castle in which Katherine had first been introduced to the hybrid.

"_I will fulfill that promise,"_ the woman responded, _"I have been trying to gain a foothold in the realm. A more physical power."_

Katherine nodded, though only half-listening, still caught up in the past. Her face went slack, and she looked up in amazement. _"Ayanna,"_ she breathed in wonder.

"_Yes,"_ the woman replied, smiling indulgently. The empty room melted away, the dream altering again as they were back in Katherine's childhood house, in the kitchen, warmed by a fire, before Klaus had come and stained the walls with red.

"_Who are you?"_

"_A witch. A servant of nature who wishes to see balance restored."_ There was a distinct ring of intensity in Ayanna's voice, but it was tempered by a calm composure that Katherine supposed came more easily to a woman who had been waiting a thousand years.

Katherine guessed at the reason, even as she licked away her tears._"You want Klaus to die." _

"_More than anything. You can help me. I know of your plans, and I know they will fail. Klaus is to strong. But I can kill him. I can give you vengeance for the deaths of your loved ones."_

Her tears flowing freely now, Katherine asked in a voice that was part plea and part broken sob, _"What can I do? Tell me."_

"_Give me your body. Poor Drusilla would not let me possess her, and I need a willing host. The recent activities of the ghosts have opened the door and strengthened my power… but I can only do so much. Give me access, and I will give you victory."_

Katherine hesitated. A strangely vulnerable note in her voice she said, _"Only if you promise me one more thing. There is a man. Stefan. Promise me he will not be hurt. Whatever he does. Don't hurt him."_

"_I know Stefan Salvatore. And I will not harm him_," Ayanna promised.

"_I let you in,"_ Katherine murmured, resigned. Still she smiled. _"I want Klaus to burn."_

In the morning, tears still staining her face, Katherine's body burst from the bed with a gasp. But it was Ayanna's smile that appeared on her face, and Ayanna's slight laugh that escaped into the air.


	14. Chapter 14

A.N. Hi, this is the last chapter of this story! Thanks for reading!

_Ayanna had helped Esther force Klaus' werewolf half dormant, but Ayanna knew in her heart it could not last forever. Esther was blind to the unnatural abomination she had created, but Ayanna was not. Klaus was not her child, after all. Esther loved Klaus, despite the fact that her duty as a witch must have given her pause, and Ayanna knew that Esther would not deal the killing blow._

_So Ayanna promised herself she would, instead._

Ayanna thought perhaps she could still feel Katherine's purr of a voice in her mind, hear her indignant cries as her body jerked up and then forward without her violation, but it was a mere, passing folly, nothing more, and she spared not another second humoring herself. She moved to the closet and let her hands roam across the clothes (leftovers, from Katherine's last stay), relishing the sensation of the fabric beneath her hands. Gasping in overjoyed pleasure and surprise, Ayanna squeezed a bunch of the fabric in her palm, and then quickly released it, turning to a dark green dress and timidly pressed a trembling finger against the deliciously soft silk. The overwhelming sensory input reminded that she was unused to this corporeal form, and she shuddered, quickly forming a hard control over her emotions.

She calmed herself. "Strength," she hissed, forcing back the amazement at the real and vivid sound- _so bright and lovely and incredibly _here_, something so physical and tangible it almost hurts to hear_- and summoned an image of Klaus in her mind, imagining him discolored and stiff with death, his ashes spilling across the ground and cleansing Esther's terrible mistake, washing away her crime forever- _and the abomination will be destroyed and his blood will never taint another_- and Ayanna smiled, Katherine's lips ever so accommodating of that particular expression.

Ayanna changed swiftly, and then examined Katherine's reflection in a nearby mirror, pushing back Katherine's dark hair from her face and watching as the girl in the glass mimicked her actions. There was a different sort of pleasure at this, one of dark satisfaction and triumph, because this only meant her success was close at hand- the first stage of her plan completed flawlessly, and it wetted her appetite as she pictured her true triumph over Klaus- _his reign and twisted line ended forever_- and Ayanna barely resisted smiling another time.

She exited the room, and then paused, searching her memory. It was strange to try and remember things she had seen when she was a ghost, in this _alive_, flesh-and-blood body, but hardly impossible. The man, the other vampire of the other race of creatures, had had the stake. And he had put it in the boardinghouse, Ayanna remembered. With his friends. Well, they would hardly pose a threat.

Downstairs, Damon had finished helping himself to a bag of blood. He offered a second bag to Angel, who violently shoved it away.

"Oh, why _not_?" Damon asked, glowering. "It's ridiculous."

"Not thank you," Angel retorted, and the polite words were marred with the bite of anger.

Damon sighed, and then in a blur of motion flung Angel across the room. It was so sudden and wholly unexpected, Angel took a second to comprehend what exactly had happened, and then his back smashed against the stairwell, and he crumpled to the ground.

It was only thanks to his undead instincts that he moved at all, his body reflexively pushed itself up to defend against the sudden threat despite the shock and pain, his face shifting and his body pressing itself into a low crouch as he let out a warning snarl, eyes warily scanning the room.

Damon's dark shape registered just in time for Damon to move again, and the briefest of instants, Angel felt Damon's hands encircling his throat, and he managed one more low growl before Damon's blue eyes gave an amused twinkle, and the firm pressure around his neck increased to an agonizing degree.

Angel made out Damon's ever-playful gaze and his cool, predatory smirk, before the pressure abruptly vanished, and Angel fell to the floor, coughing. He looked up at Damon, who smiled benignly, lifting the blood bag and shaking it. "See," Damon said sweetly, "If you had some of _this_ in your system, that never would have happened." He paused, and then reconsidered, "Okay, it probably would have happened, but only because my vampires are a hell of a lot tougher then you guys."

Angel snatched the bag of blood from Damon's hand, and then rose, another furious snarl tearing through the air.

Damon laughed. "That's right! Dig in!"

Angel flung the blood aside, a vague pang of regret stirring in him as another wave of thirst crashed over him. He looked at Damon and his throat tightened. "Don't _ever_ do that again." To his astonishment and renewed rage, he realized Damon was no longer even looking at him. His tongue formed a curse, but then he follow Damon's gaze and found himself staring at Katherine.

"Sorry about the noise," Damon drawled, stepping forward to Katherine.

She ignored him, her face devoid of emotion. Her eyes flicked to Angel, and there was no recognition in them, only cold assessment. She turned away and continued across the room to the door.

"Hey!" Damon cried, "Where you going? No secrets allowed!"

Finally, Katherine turned, and eyed him quizzically, as if he were some strange animal. She licked her lips and frowned, as if carefully formulating the correct response. "I'm leaving," she said, and her words sounded faintly accented, "I think I might know a way to find out more about Klaus' goals. I'll be back soon." And then she abruptly departed.

Damon turned to Angel after the door clicked shut. "Um, did that seem odd to you?"

"Sure," Angel agreed, "But Katherine's always been a little private. She's probably just going through some plan of hers or something."

Damon frowned. "Maybe. But even so…. No," he said, correcting himself, "_especially_ so, that worries me."

"Fine," Angel replied curtly, "What do you propose we do about it?"

Damon shrugged, and then twisted off his lapis lazuli ring. Casually, Damon tossed the ring to Angel, who caught it, and looked up, surprised. "What?" Damon asked with a shrug, "I'm not going to run across town after Katherine. How boring." He scowled petulantly as Angel twirled the ring around, but refused to put it on. "Look, pal," Damon said menacingly, "You have two choices in front of you. You either put that ring on or I break each of your fingers until you do."

Angel grimaced, but nevertheless obligingly shoved the ring on. Damon grinned.

"See, that wasn't so bad," the other vampire snickered, and then walked behind him and began pushing him in the direction of the door. "Out you go. Better hurry."

Angel paused, considered punching Damon in the jaw, and then finally yanked open the door, pleased despite himself as Damon screamed and threw himself out of the lights sudden entrance. The scent of burnt flesh briefly invaded the room, and then dissipated. From the darkness, a newly-healed Damon spewed off a round of curses, and Angel exited the house before Damon thought better of the plan and demanded his ring back. But Katherine was nowhere in sight.

Ayanna, still in Katherine's body, paused in front of Klaus' current residence. Her grip on the white oak stake tightened. She had been correct in her original assumption that it wouldn't be difficult to secure. There had only been one man still in the boardinghouse, though the scents of the others were thick and fresh, and he had been all too easy to sneak around. She breathed in, and then listened, closing her eyes and allowing her vampire senses to give her an auditory blueprint of the environment. She was glad she had. Inside the house, two voices could be heard, and from their raised tones, they were in the middle of an argument.

"You think I'll ever agree to that?" someone- Klaus, Ayanna automatically realized- asked with false politeness.

"But you'll have to," someone else replied smoothly, "Or I'll dump dear Rebekah in the Pacific."

"You do have Rebekah," Klaus seethed, "Of course. You realize it's both pointless and _dangerous_ to antagonize me, don't you? It may be a little bit _risky_ to kill you here, but then again-"

"Then nothing," the other voice interrupted coldly, "Except you will never find your family again. I know how much you _adore_ your weak little hybrids, but they're only a _replacement_ family for you. Do you _really_ value them more than the real deal?" There was a short burst of malicious laughter, and then Klaus' own laughter joined in.

"Silly Ripper," he said darkly, "I promise you that if you touch Rebekah, I will personally see to it that your brother suffers for a very long time before I kill him. And, I assure you that although it may take time to find my family, I certainly will. The only reason I've indulged you this long, mate, is that I'm rather hoping you'll come around and see the error of your ways. Don't tell me you haven't missed the fun we used to have together, Stefan."

_Stefan_. Ayanna's eyes opened, and her frown deepened. But she had no choice, she had to act. Utilizing her vampire speed, she flitted through the house, stopping in the area from where she had heard the voices.

Klaus and Stefan both gaped as they turned to her, and before his surprise faded, Ayanna shot up, and grabbed Stefan from behind, yanking his arms behind his back and holding him in place. He struggled, but Katherine was older than he was, and thus stronger, and her body had no trouble keeping the younger vampire still.

Ayanna looked at the bewildered Klaus, and her gut boiled in icy hatred, cultivated over a thousand years, envisioning his death yet again. "Klaus," she greeted.

"Katerina," he addressed coldly.

"What are you doing?" Stefan growled lividly, "I will tear you apart, Katherine!"

She examined him for a moment, and then looked back at Klaus, whose posture indicated he was planning on attacking. "Come any closer and I will kill him."

"And why should I care?" Klaus asked simply.

Ayanna looked at him. "Aside from the fact that you might very well lose your family forever?"

She didn't have to say anything else. Klaus' eyes burned with fury, but he relented, straightened and relaxed. And then he hesitated, looking back at Ayanna. He wet his lips and clenched his jaw, but he finally twisted his lips into a cruel parody of a smile. "I don't think you will kill him," he returned slyly, "You love Stefan, don't you, Katerina? You wouldn't have the heart to tear out his."

Not letting a glimpse of it show on her face, anger churned in Ayanna, as she recalled her promise to Katherine. "Yes," she agreed flatly, thrusting Stefan away, "And that is the only reason I'll let him survive." From the corner of her eye, she saw Stefan flit from the room.

In a flash, Klaus was pinning her against the wall, his forearm pressing against her throat, his hand preparing to rip out her heart. But he couldn't resist a last taunt. "I thought you were supposed to only care about yourself," he told her, "My, how weak you've become."

"How weak _you've_ become, child," Ayanna returned solemnly, and perhaps it was something in her gaze that alerted Klaus to the danger he was suddenly in. His eyes widened, but he refused to drop his arm. "Do you remember me?" Ayanna asked him.

"You aren't Katerina," Klaus said hoarsely, his eyes filled with horrified unease.

"No," Ayanna told him, her one hand reaching into her back pocket to seize the stake.

But Klaus' suspicions had warned him something was amiss, and he knocked the stake out of her grasp with his superior strength, pushing her harder against the wall.

He was more confident now, still unsure as to her identity, but seemed convinced that she offered no further threat now that her most valuable weapon had been taken from her. But Ayanna had anticipated and prepared for this outcome, though it was hardly desirable. She maneuvered her hand to press against Klaus' sternum. And then she began to chant, and then words strengthened her, and she pushed, her hand crunching through bone and muscle and her fingers wrapped around Klaus' beating heart.

His eyes went wide, and he screamed out in fear and pain, his pulsing heart racing with the illusion of life. Slowly, Ayanna began to pull, still chanting, and Klaus' cries of agony choked off, as he looked at her in dread. Her magic forced his werewolf side to the surface, and his eyes yellowed. In transition, he was vulnerable, as he had been in the ritual. There was a stillness that seemed to last an eternity, and then Ayanna did what Elijah had failed to do, and tore his heart from his chest in a violent spray of red, monstrous blood.

He screamed again, and fell forward. She supported his weight, bracing him against her, and his eyes locked on hers. "I just wanted a family," he told her almost pleadingly.

"So did Esther," Ayanna replied mildly, and realization sparked in Klaus' gaze.

"Ayanna," Klaus managed, stunned, before he slackened and went totally still. And then, much like the vampires Esther's children had been molded from, he collapsed into dust.

Her time in this body was rapidly fading, and she knew that it had taken substantial power to kill Klaus. She would now be forced to relinquish this body, as the magic she had used to make Klaus transition was now depleted, and she could not prolong her stay in a body that although had willing accepted her, would not continue to do so for long.

There was a figure standing in front of her that Klaus' body had obscured. Ayanna recognized him as the other vampire from the mansion, the soulless species, though Ayanna now _felt_ his soul in the currents she had become attuned to, and she recognized it from her time with Drusilla. She considered the new man in front of her with interest and curiosity as he stepped forward into the ash that was Klaus' remains.

"Is he dead?" the man asked, kicking at the dust, eyes still firmly fixed on hers.

"Yes," Ayanna told her. "How did you find me?"

"I followed you through town… to the boardinghouse, where I found the stake was missing, and then… to here. You have a very distinctive scent. Or rather, Katherine does. He called you Ayanna?"

"That is my name," she stated, tilting her head.

"Where's Katherine?" he asked, and there was a threatening edge to his voice.

"In front of you," Ayanna smiled, "I only have her body for a short time. I can already fell my grip over her fading."

The man nodded, slightly more at ease. "And is that why you're here? To kill Klaus?"

"I would prefer to destroy all of Esther's creations, but my power is exhausted, and Klaus was the worst of them. I had hoped… I wouldn't have to resort to _these_ measures, though."

The man frowned, sizing her up. His face cleared, comprehending. "It was you… in Drusilla's head. But she called you…." He trailed off.

"Esther," Ayanna finished, "Yes, that deception was easier. And she wasn't the only one. I tried to get Vicky Donovan to kill Elena and prevent the birth of the hybrids, but her attempt was… unsuccessful. Still, the hybrids can't create more of their race without Klaus, so they'll eventually die out altogether."

"Drusilla died because of you," the man, Angel, Ayanna remembered, stated blankly.

"She did," Ayanna concurred. Angel appeared surprised by her willingness to admit it, and had no reply.

He shifted from foot to foot, and then asked, "Are you leaving her then?"

"I am. I cannot remain here for much longer. And you have no reason to stay, either."

He stepped back, shaking his head slightly.

Smiling softly, Ayanna cut him off before he could speak. "You should know, Katherine does not love you. Before I entered her body, she requested Stefan Salvatore's safety. That was her only condition. She did not even think to mention you."

There was the barest flicker of pain that passed through Angel's eyes, before he nodded. "You're right," he told her, "and we have other work to do back in Los Angeles."

Ayanna nodded, and then gestured to the white oak stake on the ground. "I didn't get the chance to use it on Klaus. I had to kill him using… other means," she murmured weakly, swaying as her soul was dragged from Katherine's. "Take it." Angel nodded.

Ayanna gasped, as she was torn from Katherine's body and banished into the currents of the universe. The room, Klaus' remains, Katherine, and the whole world faded away, replaced by the familiar melody of the spirit realm. But, for the first time in over a thousand years, Ayanna was awash in serenity and tranquility. She was content, and she had found her peace. The currents of eternity lapped around her, flowing with an ethereal grace, singing of quiet joys and pulsing with the fevered cries of jubilation and wonder.

Back in the world of the living, Angel turned, and headed off into the street. He would return Damon's ring, give him the stake in case of trouble, and then go back to his friends at the boardinghouse. This particular battle was over, but for him, the war was far from done.

Alone in the middle of a half-completed house, Katherine awoke, and wondered why her hands were covered in blood. It would take some time before she remembered what had occurred. Then she too turned, and even without her memory she was suddenly flooded by a sense of unadulterated relief, a kind of release she had not experienced since she had discovered Klaus' true identity. She smiled, and decided it was time to find Stefan. But she could wait. She was finally free of Klaus' vengeance. For the first time in five hundred years, she could finally stop running.


End file.
